I pepper local cement with rocksand
and wet and glue the mixture on the
perforated ceiling; it makes it worth living.
I pluck a green banana from the bush
near the basil plant and fill my stomach.
It makes it worth the thorns. I drag
a mint-flavoured fag into my mouth
and cool my garden with rooftop rainwater.
Makes it worth the sight of dog crap.
I ginger up my hands with grassdew and
bear the sight of monkeys fighting.
Listen to the birds communicate
about a sunny Sunday instead of tuning to
the local radio; it might save you
the day. Listen to the mosquitoes
sing and dance in an old can
instead of envying your neighbours
smelling good for the office. You
might see a century. Listen to beggars
on the crossroads instead of lying about
your family tree. Might give you some shade.
And yes, listen to that mad woman climb
the stairs a hundred times instead
of watching photos of Miss Universe.
It might make you find your worth.
____
Amit Parmessur’s poetry has appeared in more than 120 literary magazines. Nominated for the Pushcart Award and Best of the Web, his book on blog Lord Shiva and other poems can also be found at The Camel Saloon. Hailing from Mauritius, he currently edits the Rainbow Journal and also writes in Creole and French. Sometimes he just wants to give it up all and become a billionaire.
