The Perfect Doesn't Stay Long Poem by Haruna Garba

The moment it is lit,
the perfect flares out
The moment it manifests,
the perfect disappears:
the perfect doesn't stay long
It slips by, moment its knot is tied up
Made centre of attraction,
the perfect shies away
Chalk-snipping dogs the nations become
Hands dipped on and on in to the sea
searching all their days for a single nail.
Hands slotted on and on in to quagmire
searching for some drained-clear mud fish.
But one can't restore a missed mystic stuff
unless you want to live all but a miners' life
You have your perfect, I have mine
why even be at loggerheads with each other
when your perfect contains as many loopholes
as mine does have