Monday, April 21, 2003

Today I play scavenger..borrow, steal, ask and reveal.....


for the carnival
of crimson
that her festival brings
the feverish delirium
washing over the human canvas
all this movement, feral cause
her maroon children

or for the
sun drenched red
that drapes
the women in her fields
their shy wisdom, bangles tinkling
mud pots like dry, bored roses
on their heads, going home
enigmas in red

and the vast blankets
of spice
stretching across her earth
the wave of the child's fan
red fingers of blinding taste
some of these will enter
cherry lips during dinner, a party

and then there are her moods
shifting from happy orange
to solemn plum red
across the easel of sky,
wine shot cloud
earthen dusk

her many flavoured gifts for the tongue
drunken fish
soaking up tamarind,
a man spits out addiction
freeze frame thin ruby jet
and more street texture
all these quiet stories
on the other side
of walls of sweltering red brick
the echo of drums
a woman's red, swirling sari
the fervour in the fabric

in the morning
she bends to recieve
the red habit
from his thumb

parting her lovely hair,
this line of pure affiliation
that later meets
cold metal,
someone’s fury,
all this movement, feral cause

her marooned children

frantic blood
the inadequate shield
of her arms, bangles tinkling

- Philip John, Class of 2002, Class apart...