We lie as corpses in a fishing village
Harbour flowing with blood gold
As children learn the craft of us
Bamboo scaffolding collapse
and build up mountains on landfills that were stopped by demonstration groups
As foreign warships gather and release their fuel
We open our eyes to the western sunset
But night is descending like a hot winter blanket over our polluted summer sky
Our sweat stings the eye
We are not sure if they are tears of protest or sorrow
For bamboo babies of tomorrow.
~apys
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