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by Wole Soyinka The arena is darkened. A feast of blood Will follow duly; the spotlights have been borrowed For a while. These ringside prances Merely serve to whet the appetite. Gladiators, Clad tonight in formal mufti, customised, Milk recognition, savour the night-off, Show off Rites. Ill fitted in this voyeur company The desperate arm... Read More



