Labourers In The City Poem by J T Jayasingh

There is sand on their halves
And grey stains on shirts and pants.
In the mad rush of the city
They sit on the reels of bridges.
These are lighter moments:
Cracking simple jokes and
Gazing the passing tidy passengers.


The dry, salty sweat
Still lingering on,
The smell of sand and cement
Drilling the nostrils,
A simple wait
For a cool, real bath.

The wrestle they’ve had
With iron, bricks and rocks
Would come as colourful scenes
In their late night’s sleep
When their wives simply lie beside
Dreaming not a hot wet touch
But some silver shining bowls.


- J T Jayasingh