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  • Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

Princess of Cart Monarch


At the hour of golden rays of dying Sun,

fusing with symphonies of returning birds

inhaling poisoned air with fading flowers,

she walks on crowded street with eagle eyes.

In roar of rolling cart wheels on dusty roads

to the beat of Kottu maker's iron blades,

And the winding words of dreams of lottery huts

composing a song for satanic move of hips,

she walks on crowded street with eagle eyes.

Awaiting comfort with few rupees earned of sweat

heaven's smoke with half open eyes, visualises

fantasies blend with mounting moon, heightens

when waving silhouette appears though darkness

On the rickety cart exhausted of days work

sighs n’ mourns set flying flames of desire

where hard-earned rupees burn in wildlife.

and when hungry infant’s cry goes unheard

and the mat under tin roof weeps wretched,

before partly opened eyes fully open surprised,

She walks out on crowded street with eagle eyes

for the next hunt, on a cart, in a dark alleyway.

every night, all night, till her youth is fully away.