Corn On The Cob Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I come from the land of locusts.
Periodically, on rare occasions,
back when there was no concern
over climate changes

and the Sirocco blew over Casablanca
the skies turned somberly gloomy.
The feast after their landing was pan-fried.
Locusts with cumin spices. Cruncheeeeee!

In fact there is compensation
Nature has a way to substitute a simile
For an allegory or the real thing.
We just have to learn to swallow it.

OK, you wait for an intelligent comment
& the one thing I remark
about the locust aftermath is that there's
no corn in sight any longer.

Don't take this too close
to the kernel of your cob!

Much chuckling... maize! Mas maize!