Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Thick like beans spilling: A poem of Rajarata

Thickness of the sky
Thickness of the clouds
Thickness of the rain
Thickness of smoke
Wake up in a choke
But it's a happy dream
You feel refreshed and clean

Wake up in a breeze
Cooler though it seems
Hot to the touch
You hold your breath
Instead let it out
Revert and repeat
Allow time for the engine
The road is crowded with dogs
The campus is crowded with paid certificate students
The students repeat from their open hall-classrooms,

"The small house is red. It sits in a field."
The small house is muddy
It sits by the road
The boys on a motorbike shout in Singhala,
"Take a tooth from the foreigner."
The foreigner looks strange wherever he goes. However he dresses. The fact of this is a closed society. The face of this is a closed society. The font of this 
is round
like bubbles
like buds of dew
like beans or bribes
We're stopped by the road for a bribe but I'm seen
And according to Amara the police know I know I will report them
How could I know when
The language sounds
Like bubbles 
Or beans

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