Kandy: At The Citadel Hotel Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Like kingfishers alert and keen
The waiters stand in mauve sarongs
With cumber bands of white or green
Ruled by the clang of dinner gongs

Small gods with their almighty dollar
Plump Europeans brandish tips
Gone are the days of tie and collar
These days its t-shirt package trips

Firewalkers tread a trench of coals
The flames leap skyward, red and stark
To conch shells bellow, and drum rolls
Like Satan's imps across the dark

The guests applaud. The lightning rips
The water bag that holds the night
On honeymoon, ten grooms unzip
Their whey-faced brides, and grip them tight

This is their moment for romance
Those newly-weds from Slough or Fife
Before the treadmill of the kids
The weekly shop. The mortgaged life
The earth does shake in the monsoon
Even for brides from Hull, or Troon.