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Alibi Reed
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Crayfly Flies
I grew weak, like a bird flying lame,
history repeats itself on the banks of the Kumar,
I am parched, away, still in time I wait for the wine,
celebrate, the forthcoming rains.
I remember back when poets, musicians, fishermen
basked in my resource, this beauty must return.
No one to feed, pass over disease, children running in my reeds. I have no alibi for when I dried.
Always fight for one more round,
despite the rules and fears,
always try for one more round,
and that's, why the crayfly flies.
Use of the verb to have and to be.
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I was clean, I flourished when men had no machines.
I wish to write you a letter explaining my demands,
I want my tailors, soldiers, friends to wash their hands in me, in me.
Always fight for one more round,
despite the rules and fears,
always try for one more round,
and that's, why the crayfly flies.
Always fight for one more round,
despite the rules and fears,
always try for one more round,
and that's, why the crayfly flies.
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