Poem - MAG Poetry Prize 2010
In Praise of the Children Who Sell Scarves at Angkor Wat
by
Tidmarsh, UK
They celebrate the divinity of free enterprise,
for though they travel in flocks, each,
like a homing pigeon, represents himself.
Their teeth have the whiteness of Piranhas
or vampires, the better to bleed us dry
of compassion and currency, but their arms
are filled with rainbows. They coo and croon
their wares, remind us of hope—
you buy my scarf–one dollar? They do not accept
no, or understand it. They terrify us into random acts
of kindness, and sated with scarves we are each,
in turn, satisfied with the deal. They honour us
with their attention, you come back soon?
and we shower them with bills,
grateful for their beauty.
Added: 15.03.2010
07.05.2010
Wonderful, when you read a good poem it just flows and this one did that very well.