The Eleventh Hour Poem by Uche Nwanze

The goose who lay the golden egg, an oblation to propitiate the ire of the Capitol.
In the judgement seat he posed for inquisition.
Taunts and haunts hurled at him.
He has been given a dose of his medicine they jeered.
He'd rather not vaunt or lose his cool.
On the brink of extermination, he'll never lose faith.
Close to meeting the gatekeeper of Hades.
In despair we sink, yet he didn't blink or wink.
Had to choose between the devil and deep blue sea.
He had nothing to lose, all hell breaks loose.
At the break of dawn, the hounds have been loosed on him.
The gallows his destination.
The noose round his neck.
To the stars he turned to for salvation.
Death laughs at our loss.
Will the gods toss the coin in our favour?