This week’s poem, inspired by the intensity of the city where I live.

Dhaka

Think of an anthill; that coming and going,

vibrating energy expended on gathering,

carting, sorting, crisscrossing

without missing a step.

Think of an anthill; single-minded

survival instincts, cooperation,

stealing, shoving, lifting, cleaning,

storing, eating, dying.

Think of an anthill; lines of workers

carting weight  too heavy for spindly limbs,

sand grain by sand grain

 changing the earth.

Dhaka 2015

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