THIS HOUSE

This house sits snug and listens to its neighbours -
Warm frazzle of argument, shouted shrieks,
A man's voice, a woman screaming,
Slammed doors making occasional stamps upon the air,
Cooing baby, mother's commands, sister's love.

The carpet's beaten, the dustbin rattles,
Food stirs and casts fried scents,
Greetings at the doorway, Come in!
The barber murmers, snick snick scissors, Urdu, Punjabi, a rush of children's feet
And the cries and the sighs and the eeks and the squabbles, quarrels,
Run run run! And hide!
Helter skelter, small legs tumbling,
Laughter, cross cross, scold and chide!

Sunlight beckons at the windows, winter casts its dripping veil,
Ther's sonorous talk of great unknowns,
Muttered Q'oran.

Cry at the gateway! Come home! Where are you? Here!
Disputes in ululations, bull roars,
Clanked cups, scamped feet,
The silent labouring of a woman in the garden,
Hawked throat as the morning calls ...

20/2/91