Padar triptych

1.

In the distance, a country whose name
I’m still learning to pronounce
hears the call for dinner
and find the table is just four trembling legs.

What good is a place at the head
when all other seats remain empty?

Curl up on the ground.
Make the world a plate.
Promise to never eat lonely again.

2.

Give a boy a fish and then
set the dogs on him.
Send the streets up in a burst of firelight
and then set the sirens on him.

There are times when the night
casts a shadow that makes you
the wrong shade for innocence.

3.

Some hours up north
pistachio groves form
ordered lines and it’s
never been quite so hot.

A man sits at the side of the road,
hailing at buses to empty out their passengers.

What a thing to roar down the roads
but not have a soul.

He’s selling pitch-black pudding
until the ladle dips deep enough,
dispersing the flies
like a shiver down limbs,
revealing a puddle of milky white.