Untitled 5
This, the land
He said:
Legs akimbo
His city hands inside his jeans pocket
Where my great grandfather’s bones
Has been laid to rest
The stone crusher
The bulldozer
Ploughing the red earth
Mixing blood and yearning
Death and salvation
The trees have been felled
And taken care off
Yeah
The avuncular contractor spoke
Massaging his stubby hands
Being chiseled into carved doors and wide windowsills
Those majestic teak trees
With brush drops of flowers
The cashew trees
With grating leaves
The pepper wines encircling
The jackfruit trees
The avocados
That made me diabetic for life
I don’t go near them, Sir
Health hazard
The coconut palms
In their biblical circular bed
The arecanut trees
Mating in the wind
Not much produce, though Sir
Tongue in cheek
The blue-black jasmine trees
And the snakes lying curled beneath
The ones that strayed in from the Garden of Eden
With dark rings of passion on its jugular body
Now
The guavas at the back
With succulent yellow fruits
The laterite quarry, Sir
Oh that
That has been leveled
With all those yellow temple stones
Made good use of them
The little bastards
(This in an aside)
They are mowing down the guava, Sir
He knelt down to pick up
A blood red pebble of earth
With a white wiry calcium deposit around it
(Some cheap sentiments)
And superstitions, no doubt
He hid a smile
As the pickaxes bounced back
From fossilized bones
Dozens of them
Bones upon bones
The dead upon dead
You planted your story on them
And history shot up
…
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