POOR LAW

I wrote this after watching a TV documentary on the Indian city of Calcutta / Kolkata.

Scrunched up against sweating bricks

in some dingy, flea-ridden covering,

a hungry cat’s stare,

hiding embarrassment,

with its air of false bravado,

waits for me to engage myself

in aimless talk, which awakens

your noxious pride of place.

A life threadbare, barely intact,

you see the future not open,

except to scrounge, beg, steal

among poverty’s obscene sprawl.

Have you ever been taken away

from these backyards

to open-spaced fields, seared

by the brazen sun  

on hard, crisp ground,

or chanced to gaze up

at ancient imperialism,

where you might glimpse

a pair of cold, furtive eyes,

watching you with sarcastic intent?

No, you were lucky you never did.