At the grizzly crossing next to Napier bridge
freight-ships sound booze horny,
breeze recede like native fisherman
into the morning sea.
the road forks, joins, forks again,
cars ply like twiddling fangs
by the circular enceinte, silvery globe,
metal dove’s set to take flight, freedom,
the red wrap leans at the bottom, legs spread wide,
her hair mangles like entwined hooks,
she faces the other way, seems to doze;
I worry about her profession through the day,
booms blaze
after sunset, sailors stroll in the esplanade
like wobbler-syndrome afflicted dogs,
we return our homes,
she’s young, feeds a pup with yum
moves shore by river Coovum.
Saranyan BV (c) April 2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem