Containers
SL Lee
A band of Bangladeshi
Of a skin of a different colour
Up in hoist and steel cables
With the wrong end
Hammering
At a brass lock sealing
The huge container doors
Whether red or rusty in the night
I could not tell
Really
I think of you on the other side
Pressing your ear close
The very same doors:
Without the keys and – so
Incomplete
You smile and talk while the noon-day light
White-washes around us
Till your eyes are shadows slits
Cool inviting in the day
Calling me
Yet always the walls around me
In the dark their nearness
It is me on the other side
fumbling with the lock
Outside you
Listening
We are both doctors
Checking:
For the signs of life
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