Metrosphere 2004-2005
Dhaka
On Hindu street
his hammer sang
carving headstones
for the dead
Tap tap
Too young to talk
or grasp the irony
Sculpting a remembrance
in graven images
of those who lived before
Tap tap tap
Color thronged the
narrowing road
A traffic jam
of bodies
Tap tap
Rickshaws
and people
scrounging
begging or selling
shell bracelets
wood and clay carvings
Laden carts of pineapple
mango and bricks
Flies and filth
and foul smells
Slaughtered cows
for Eid
Tap
In a dim corner
his dark head
never looked up
Crouching
on the balls of his feet
he worked in earnest
heedless of the turmoil
and discord around him
Naked