i saw three the other evening
dusk falling like soot
work done for the day
each had a shovel in her hand
two had them slung like men do
on their shoulders
dirty worn to the bone saris rust
in the saffron light
glass bangles
bare feet
dark skin
calluses on elbows like ash patches
shadows long on the street
but it was their stride
the way they walked
that got me caught me
jaunty and lithe bony hipsway
one ankle out one ankle in
on that catwalk road
a tak tak tak cock a hoop
riptide to their steps
a jingle a lilt something that
said fuck it buddy tools down
i am done
i am going home
light me
a doobie girl
lean back crack
a few wind down
tomorrow’s another day another
taka butt grinding for the man
but right now we three
we calling it quits
for the day
us three
going home
wash our tits
shush the kids
light the stove
queue at the pump
count the pennies
lay out the mat
search for the thread
cool the fever…
that fucking work darling
never ends
keeps coming
and coming
at ya…
till one day they shovel you
six feet under
and then you really are done for
the friggin’ day
Khademul Islam is editor of the literary journal Bengal Lights.
