Bricks came first and then the lime.
We like their color and of the  pan
That they sit in on woman's head 
As a  warm sky stretches infinitely
From the sun-kissed hem of her cloth.

Old bricks make way for  new ones
That contrast so well with old cloth.
The bricks have burnt to perfection
Outside city where they spew  fumes
As earth burns slowly towards  sky.

Woman and boy cut smooth cakes
Burn them to perfection like hell.
Their  hell burns fiercely in red face.
Once  they are out from the inferno
They sit in  pans on woman's heads
For  a  joy ride to  house skeletons .
Then they are  laid, end to end, to hide

Men from the sky and its fierce sun.


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