The Hunt by Josh Pampam (23, Nigeria)

The black bus paused,
Drifted at our back, 
As we walked home from school.

The smooched tire
On the tarred road --
Set our feet on the track,
Towards the bush path.

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Screech mixed with stamps,
Fixed at the back of our view;
Weaved our heart with fear,
As their dance wooed our ears.

Minutes of racing in the wood,
Our skin turned a stream,
Our nostrils sunk in breathing
As the rain of bangs reigned on us.

So sad, it touched Ralph,
The only friend I have.
A bang forayed his chest,
And zapped him like a pest.

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