strange asian fruit*

kathmandu trees bear a strange fruit
grime on the bark, piles at the root
black bags glistening in the hazy sun
strange fruit telling of what's become.

city scape of the bustling street
reflected in bags at passerby's feet.
vendors selling sweets that smell fantastic
then the sudden smell of burning plastic.

here is a fruit for the dogs to scower
for the rain to drain to pools of sour
for the dust to collect, for the leaves to mop
here is a strange and bitter crop.


*fashioned after the annonimously written poem "strage fruit" that billie holiday wrote music to and later became a jazz standard. i by no means wish to compare the two atrocities, i simply wish to make known the state of nature in the eyes of a stranger.