Based in Leeds, England, MARTIN JERVIS has previously published poetry in Orbis, Poetry Salzburg Review (Austria), Outposts, and in Blue Fifth Review (US),
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MARTIN JERVIS Christmas Day in Margao (India)The beggar has no legs to speak of Bony stubs poke out beyond the cut offs. He squats a small square board on castors And propels it in all compass directions With the touch of a wheelchair athlete. He surely cannot see through glazed eyes Smooth and dense ceramic dishes That has no pretty patterns. Immune to the stomp of shopper's feet He is beneath the eye line of the crowd Made invisible yet he is not. He is twisted and bent into an old gnarled tree Thinning hair of a dog with mange. He feels the shape and texture of half Rupee coins pressed into hard skin. Eyes avert and pretend absence He is a faint shadow of conscience. Homo Sapiens is a mother's son Death row is a sentence for no clean crime Decades of passing no appeals or pardons. No smiles no humour no nothing For the caste of survival It is the hot catholic morning of Christmas Day But no one proffers a five-rupee note Lest he camps on their doorstep.
Copyright 2006, MARTIN JERVIS, all rights retained
