Bapitti She is a cross-legged mystic lit upon treasure, She leaves through my rubbish, Recycling the paper Unfolding and neatly flattening The needless trash of my life. All to make a dollar off an old newsprint merchant. I envy her humming pleasure To some secret rhythm I can never possess. We cannot converse. Sometimes she smiles at me, But not often. The white man big-wig With wasteful habits and strange music In his great room. To me, she is the singing sage, With her toothy smile of peace.

Robert James Berry was born in Redhill, Surrey in the U.K. in 1960, and was educated in England, Scotland and Northern Ireland. He lectures English Literature in the Faculty of Modern Languages and Communication at Universiti Putra Malaysia (UPM). He has been writing poetry for over twenty years and has had work published in the United States, New Zealand, Australia, Canada, Sweden, Germany and Britain. He is married to Ahila and lives in Bangi, Selangor. Smoke is his first volume of poems.

Robert is a frequent contributor to TPQ OnLine and some of his previous work can still be seen in our Archives.
Feedback can be addressed to rjberrry@fbm.upm.edu.my.

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