River-once
With paper boats
boys tickle my ribs
and buffalos have turned me to a pond
there’s eaglewood in my hair
and stale flowers ,
every evening
as bells toll
in the forehead
of the temples
I see a man
on the steps
clean his arse
kingfishers and egrets
whom I fed
have flown my paps
Also emperors and poets
who slept
in my arms
I am become a sewer
now, no one
has any use for Vaikai river, once
of this sweet city.
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