Sedequa could not wait to see the
“Monsters of the Congo” as the news
Was dubbing them. White people of old
Left statues of naked men and tits
That receive respect and praise but when
Africans build creative and awe
Inducing masterpieces, they’re seen
As monstrous and frightening, she thought,
But as Sedequa explored the more
Than eight dozen stone sculptures with wings
And meticulously designed scales
And claws and fangs she couldn’t help but feel
Slightly intimidated by the
Art of ancient peoples, she was struck
With a strange feeling of abandon.
“They’re quite something, arent’t they,” a man asked,
His dark eyes and brown skin glistening
In the light from the windows of the
Museum. “Breathtaking,” Sedequa said.
“I couldn’t miss the grand opening,”
He continued, “Same with you?” She smiled
And said, “They remind me of someone
I used to know.” The man grinned and said,
“They must be a magical person.”
Sedequa would have smiled again,
If the screeching had not filled her ears.
