Posts
batik butterflies
in white and grey
flit like waves
on bengal bay
morning climbs
Sri Lankan hills
spice trail harvests
cinnamon quills
further east
from maluccan trees
voices carry on
clove-scented breeze
legend of woe
for the indonese
came a cropper
the dutch VOC
still people climb
to earn their keep
old gnurled hands
the spice trail reaps
and every year
the middleman buys
at ridiculous rates
and profits multiply
so next time you flavour
your drink or meal
with vanilla or pepper
you’ll know the deal
remember those hands
when you reach for spice
a lifetime of labour
at a discount price
~e
