Apples
‘The landmines are just like apples’
Khmer Rouge survivor
Apples can peel your skin
Like it isn’t there
But more often than not
The cruellest fruit
Sucks the rusty blade
And leaves threads
Dripping
Threads of skin
Threads of your life
Dripping
Seeds onto barren ground
You mean nothing to the apples
You mean nothing to the apples
You mean nothing
Their anaesthetic minds
Hold no sense of time
No sense of pain
No sense
No sense of what remains
And if you
Are one of the hand-picked
Who escape in a step-right-on-it flash
Give thanks for this windfall
Which leaves survivors
Green
To the core
As they crawl
With the worms
With the worms
And the decay
Praying
To scrump a handout
With no hands
For the crumb
Which may or may not come
As they sit
In their own shit
Begging
On their stumps
For a friendly worm
To turn
Up
And eat it
Untouchable
On my recent trip
to Gujarat
I took
numerous
pretty photographs
of Modhera
Palitana
Dwarka
The White Desert
and other pretty places
but
the image
I can’t delete
from my heart
my hard drive
is of a ragged street child
at Vastrapur Lake
who stepped out
from the promenading crowd
raised
his left
index finger
into the stifling
late afternoon
air
and drew
a rectangle
to take
an imaginary selfie
with me
Remanded In Custody
How can you talk
Of an even split
When you’re parents
Of three kids
How can you ask
For understanding
When you won’t say
What you did
How can you demand
We keep calm
When all you do
Is shout
And scream
It’s your own business
When we’re what
The fight’s about
How can you plead
You need your freedom
When you’ve built
Our jail
Whose four sad walls
Have heard it all
Every selfish
Last detail
How can you think
We’re stupid
’Cos we don’t know
What it means
To move on and
Make a new start
When we’re not yet
In our teens
If you two
Are so clever
And know what
Life’s about
Why must it
Take forever
To sort
Your problems out
You’ve no thought
For our feelings
Or respect for
What we think
While you resent
That we need feeding
When you don’t have
Cash for drink
You complain
We’re far too young
To understand
Your trials
Well in this case
It’s not the children
Who’re acting
Like a child
You both believe
That you’re the victim
Of the other’s
Poisoned mind
But if your eyes
Can still open
You might see
The only crime’s
Neglect of
Your own kids
All three
Ripped apart
By being used
As silent weapons
Against your
Other half
How dare you
Claim us as conscripts
To fight
Your filthy war
When the offence
That we committed
Was only
Being born
You’d never think
You’re guilty
But if you’d any
Common sense
You’d see the last thing
Left in common
Is we’ve all got
No defence
