Samarawickrama photo2
Type
Poetry

River of crumbs

They are eating the photographs

Because

there is no bread

The photographs proliferate

 

Your excavated back looks suspended

we are looking down on you

 

And you are caught on the crumbs of buildings

we are standing on that

which stood on you

 

The space between the crumbled parts

of which you are a part

exists

 

For your ashen powdered self is

Dimensional and recognisable

I lifted a city off your face

 

My little ash-boy

My little dust-puppet

Of concrete grey and dusted edifices

 

Your black eyes are curious

 

Your toes are lifelike

Your black eyes are liquid

 

Your cheeks curve like apples

Your black eyes are alive

 

As we try not to see

 

 

Image: Damascus / Игорь М

 

 

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Sumudu Samarawickrama was born in Sri Lanka though she’s never lived there. She is an emerging writer currently part of Footscray Community Arts Centre’s West Writer’s Group.

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