|
Crates for tables,
dust-sprinkled doughnuts,
tiered and ignored by all
but the indomitable flies
On the floor, (battered
blackened pots, a tray,
a tin spoon, two glasses,
a gas burner) soot-stained
hands and hair, head
bent, elbows in hands
shielding or embracing herself
On the street, rickshaws
piled with lumber or buffalo innards
lumber past. Huddled, mid-day,
men sit and stare
as tea boils, as the milk
boils over, saying
Girl, make it
sweet
Give it here! |
