Thoughts of a Banana Farmer
Now I
want to be a banana
plant, swinging in the wind,
free from the knots of debt.
The shards of dreams won’t wound
me again. Ever. I’ll never be hunted
by the loan sharks with serrated teeth. The
weevil thought cannot perforate the corm of my peace.
Away from the waves of suicide, I’ll live–listening to the
Asian koel. I can decipher that song. Someone may drop
nutritious love into my heart; my roots will be wet
with kindness. My cigar leaf can grow straight
into the light. The blossoming of
altruism will come out, opening my
skull– budding. My end is made
serene- calm, by the cogitation
of my fruitful
e
x
i
s
t
e
n
c
e.
*First published in Native Skin.
*Reprinted in The Literary Hatchet.
*Poetry Nook Weekly Contest Winner.
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