WEEK 25: THE SLAUGHTER OF THE GOAT, Part 1 of 5

Wife Number One is kneeling before Obi
Her palms held together, her eyes cast down
In total supplication before her lord and master
Being Number One she alone can do it

Beg Master Obi to spare Number Four
Who in her hut still trembles like a leaf
Feeling much afraid for having tossed Obi
Into his lodgings as though a bag of garbage

"My husband," says Wife Number One
"Remember also Our Wife's lame leg.
Everyone will say Our House is loathsome
If you beat the life out of an un-whole girl."

She hastens a glance to her lord and master
To see if at all his countenance is moved
To mellow his heart takes special skill
From one who has known him longest of all

Obi's placid eyes meet hers squarely
She cannot believe he ever fancied her
Back then those eyes had been much kinder
A mere glance and off to his bed to touch and play

That and the silly plain songs he concocted
As his coarsened fingers roamed her secret spot
He rendered her stupid with endless pleasures
All of that ceased when she bore him no heirs

But he did leave her one powerful tool
To move his heart when no one else could
To bring him down when his temper flared
Looking at him now, his gaze is not soft

Yee Gods! she thinks, is that lost too?
In his quest for males he became unknown
Curses on his mother, the source of my doom
Wife Number One casts her eyes down

Silence hangs heavy between them like smoke
Somewhere outside a rooster crows
Mixed in with that, the bleating of the goat
It's purpose useless, no cause to celebrate

Wife Number Four contemplates an exit
But she dares not rise without his leave
Perhaps he waits for her to say more?
What more could she say having said it all

(to be continued)