The Indian Lavatory Attendant Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The lavatory attendant rolls her eyes
At filthy Westerners who wipe with paper
The Asian drains can't cope with such excess
Each sanitary sheet, thin as a wafer's
Deposited in wire mesh open bins
Where flies cavort around and love to caper

The lavatory attendant sells the sheet
Lifting her hand for tip, or paper fee
Like a trapped butterfly in this grim spot
Where sour-faced tourists step inside to pee

All day she squats as graceful's a gazelle
Her crimson sari's vivid in the heat
Gold anklets, bracelets, earrings, nose-rings, flash
On the wet floor, her slender, naked feet

She hears each tinkle, sprinkle, plop and drop
This low-caste girl, gem in a stinking setting
The hiss of piss, the Westerners' complaints
Who snub the water bucket douche and wetting

And here you have it. Forest trees are felled
So western bums can rise up squeaky clean's
A squid, gold pants, a puppy Labrador
The left-hand water way, they think's obscene

Yet water's free. No packaging. No fuss
So East or West, what's best for them, and us?