On
the Collapse of a
Textile
Factory, Dhaka
Soils, lichen, buds
Rise on tippy toes
To birth in silence
Subduing burdens
And scars
One widow shuns
Easter, disdaining
Lilies, lilies dropped
Fifty years ago into
Her son’s grave
Reshma Begum
Rose from the dirt
After 17 days of stench
Of factory compost
In Bangladesh
Reshma bloomed
Where 1,127 did not
Pressed, unfolded
Our clothes half
Finished
When shall we look
Again, at lilies
Or press our pretty
Outfits white as
History suits?