Saturday, September 4, 2010

Could You Know?

as the little girl came with fresh morning milk
as we ate curried peas in the dawn

in the dark, squatting,
holding a long stick wound with cotton
face lit by burnt butter

on the roof squinting back at the himalayas, down at rusting rebar

how garbage is not piled in the streets, lit on fire

no shopkeeper holding a rat by it’s tail, beating it against the ground

we don’t see the fingernail-ed stubbed hands of lepers

no little girl, body missing below the belly

how we don’t have bandhs, don’t light tires on fire in the middle of streets to get reparations for one’s child murdered by the Young Communist League

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