Spring 1996 • Vol. XVIII No. 2 Poetry |

Procession

From the Bengali.  from Sketch Series  Through villages, along town roads, the processions pass all day every day inching their way to the Maidan. Black clustered heads cover the green. In the afternoontheir leaders appear one after another. Staring at the sea of human heads they lecture endlessly—on revolution, on peace. The black heads stir. The processions begin againback to the towns and villages. Every day.No one bothers to look at their faces. When they're gone, the green comes out again.

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