.

Make It Sweet

Make It Sweet

Crates for tables,
dust-sprinkled doughnuts,
tiered and ignored by all
but the indomitable flies
On the floor, (battered
blackened pots, a tray,
a tin spoon, two glasses,
a gas burner) soot-stained
hands and hair, head
bent, elbows in hands
shielding or embracing herself
On the street, rickshaws
piled with lumber or buffalo innards
lumber past.  Huddled, mid-day,
men sit and stare
as tea boils, as the milk
boils over, saying
Girl, make it sweet
Give it here!

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Copyright @ 2001, 2002 by Wayne Amtzis. All Rights Reserved.

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