The boy who talked to toys – Battambang, Cambodia


He only talks to toys – said the teacher

of the boy with hair like an upside down bowl

and cheeks like Shingo pears,


wearing shoes while others run barefoot

holding a plastic toy while the rest

brandish frogs, or grasshoppers.


i want to say – I too know

how the darkness at the centre

of the glittering story


tosses its whispered filaments

across bruised shadows of years

to bind your limbs


how silken cobwebs entwine your throat,

entrapping words in stitchery,

while you stare, helpless.


But I cannot speak your language

that flows like the sparkling stream

over stones.


I press a star-shaped sticker

upon his breast pocket. He looks up.

He smiles.


i remember, once, a star

shining with remembered light

fell from black sky


into my outstretched hand.



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