Tales Of A Wife: Iyawo Poem by Vincent Onyeche

Countless great men he commands
He is like a king
In-fact he is
A king of a clan.

They all see him as an eagle
He has this majestic ego
No one can-
Rubbish or Imagine to

- Or so they feel
He can and could
Handle an axe on a wood
On decisions and actions

But she don't care
How reddish
Or greenish
His apples may appear

Or the drops of tears
He has made others shred
By sending arrows
To kill or to pierce.

In his imaginary clan
If ranked,
She is the least
But she commands him

Humbles and make him kneel
Doesn't matter how tall he is
She bends him
Like farmers do to plants

She makes him plead
Far above his guilty pleasure
No doubt every man
Has a lady who screws his nuts.

Even when innocent
She makes him feel guilty
Not by an affair between
A teenager and an oldster

On his golden throne
'Get me a mirror' he commands
Staring at it, he wonders:
'Why does she call me a boy.'