Published on: 3/27/2013
Dust

We were thinking of large corporate profits
Euphoric with the fevered rise in our stock prices
And growth rates of upwards of eight percent.
The woman down there slapped wheat breads
To go with raw onion and slices of tomato.

A streak of sunlight played with slapping palms
Another with a wrapping-salmon newspaper
That mentions no migrant women in torn tents,
Slapping wheat breads before three-stone fires.

Their men are waiting for the contractor's van
At the street corner to be picked up on a chance.
The sun is already going up at the street corner.
Yesterday, some were not picked up and today
Eyes are focused on the dust raised by the van.