I am reading serious Russian poetry in the bath.
A drip, drip, drip from a cistern.
The noisy builders drive a steam roller
As the summer sun melts the tarmac.
Serious Russian poetry drips in a cistern/
Where noisy builders drive their steam roller/
As the summer sun melts the road /
A Bengali mother harangues the children/
While a neighbour slams the toilet seat/
Under the noisy builders truck.
The Bengali mother harangues/
The noisy builders in the bath/
As a serious Russian poet/
Melts the truck like a chocolate cake.
Serious Bengali children/
Harangue the builders with Russian poetry/
And stick to the melted summer road/
Like dripping drops of haranguing mothers.
Serious builders read Russian poetry/
On the summer streets into a cistern/
As Bengali children sing in the bath/
To the drip drop of water from the washing line.
A little Bengali child drives a builder’s truck/
Reading serious Russian poetry/
As builders empty the melted street/
That drips into the sunny cistern from a washing line.
A grim neighbour reads Russian poetry/
As his breakfast drips into the builders truck/
Bengali children melt in the sun/
That drips, drips, drips in a summer cistern.
A Bengali mother with a bath of water/
Puts out the fire of the melting cistern/
As flakes of serious Russian poetry/ Drip, drip, drip over the balcony.
The serious Russian builders reading poetry/
Melt like plastic in a dripping cistern/
Where fire and cornflakes are flying from a balcony/
As Bengali mothers hang the children out to dry.
Bengali mothers read serious builders poetry/
As Russian cisterns drip from washing lines/
The neighbours flattened bodies melt in the sun/
Like plugholes draining the noisy cornflakes:)
Sat July 22nd 95
