Dust Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

We were thinking of large corporate profits
Euphoric with fevered rise in share prices
And growth rates of upwards of eight percent
The woman down there slapped wheat breads
To go with raw onion and slices of tomato
A thin streak of sunlight played with slapping palms
Another one with a pink salmon newspaper
That mentions no migrant women in canvas tents,
Slapping wheat breads before three-stone fires.
Their men are waiting for the contractors van
At the street corner to be picked up as a chance
The sun is going up at the corner, above the shops
Yesterday, some men were not picked up and today
Their eyes are focused on the dust raised by the van.