Black Rice of Winter by Kyi May Kaung.
One hour to kill
how better to do this
than reading the poetry
of Paul Celan.
Black rice of winter
we till you and till you
seeding ya kyaw sabar
and other grains that don't
taste right
and don't sell.
Black rice of winter
we till you and till you
and brave
compulsory delivery quotas
and not being able
to feed our own families and have
seed for next year
left over.
Black rice of summer
you failed us you failed us
it flooded and Nargis the Cyclone
took all of our children--
the fields
are full
of skulls and dead bodies and bloated
cows.
Black rice of winter we hate you
we hate you.
Black rice of winter leave me
alone.
Don't stick to my thoughts
don't stick to my clothes
don't stick to my being.
Black rice of winter go take
Metta to Paul Celan's mother killed
by a piece of lead.
Now the hour is effectively killed
there are only 30 minutes
left.
Copyright Kyi May Kaung 11-14-2013
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