Simplicity
The full squat
Replaces sofas and chairs
When selling at market,
Waiting road side for buses,
In homes.
Living room and sleeping room are one.
In the street,
Men squat in clusters
Around games.
Women squat to pick up cow dung
For fuel.
Everyone squats to defecate.
They rinse with the left hand
And then stand effortlessly.
Everyone has a position
Of comport and repose
With them at all times.
The right hand
Becomes a knife,
A fork,
A spoon.
No utensils to wash up.
Nothing to store.
Just the ends of fingers
Pinch gobs of biryani,
Or a piece of nan
To soak up
The last of the marsala.
A strip of cloth
White and worn,
Or shimmering and brightly coloured,
Becomes
A sari,
A lounghi,
A turban,
A shawl,
A baby holder,
Or rain coat.
It might be woven of
Cotton,
Wool
Camel hair or silk.
There are no buttons,
No zippers,
No sizes,
No fashion seasons.
Occasionally,
It is rinsed in the river,
Then flung in arching smacks onto rocks.
After it is clean,
The sun dries and perfumes it.
Would really appreciate it if you were to send me this poem so that I may publish it in a forthcoming issue of Fowl Feathered Review. You can read all issues of this review here:http://fowlpox.tk/ You may contact me here: fowlpox@mail.com
ReplyDeleteAlso, my daughter is very fond of your paintings and now my wife and I are fans also.
Best,
Virgil Kay
Editor
Fowlpox Press