Poetry

MANGOING

I sit next to a box of mangoes
knowing very well
it might be the last.

It IS the last.

Now all that remains
of the box,
of summer,
is the aroma—
a scent you can almost
eat.

Conversation

If you listen deeply,
life's nothing but
a conversation.

We, all day.
The crickets, all night.
The birds, somewhere in between.

For the Bamboo Shoot on My Desk

Thirsty little sapling,

I think
you may have
a drinking problem.

You have been
guzzling water
like it is beer

For Sale:

Head.

1987 original,
slightly used.

A little rough
around the edges.

A little scar
above the forehead.
Negligible internal damage.

DAYLING

Morning is a child.
You are a child
in the morning.
—×—

Afternoon comes,
as it will,
as it will.
You come in the afternoon.
—×—

RAINDANCE

tip top
tip top
tip top

goes the tin roof

and we wheel around
to see
if
it is raining

SEACRET

We come from
the sea, from
the fish

so we need to cry
every now and then

so that the salt water
can open

MYOPIA

I'm a little blind
without my glasses.

I cannot read
the writing on the wall

or judge vehicles 
on the road
on a rainy day

NAÍVE

I love the word ‘naíve’
she says.

'Naíve' sounds so much
like someone's name
she says.

'Naíve' sounds like a lady
holding a nice cuppa coffee
she says.

GALPA

‘Password, please.’

‘So, I was lost in this big, big banana grove.
I’d no idea how I’d gotten there
or how I would get out.
And then it hit me that
I must eat all the bananas —
the green ones, the yellow ones, the red ones ­—
and I would find the answer in one of them.’