edge a pile of unwashed pots and pans; a pregnant woman's
blood-smeared torn sari; by its side a pack of mangy dogs
saliva-drool running past jawlines into the dust.

Today is Pahela Boishakh. Dawn breaks. Amena's mother
diarrhea-vomiting since last night. Fever. Incantations,
holy water; from the joist hangs a fearful breath;

two blood-red eyes flung from Hell.
On Rasulpur's east, at the bend of the village path, that
centuries-old-witness, the bot tree, trembles slightly,

on bone-dry branches swoop down thirteen vultures.
Yesterday when Khaleq tilled the south patch of land,
the plow blade hit and awakened human skulls

not one not two, but thousands, noiseless.
Today is Pahela Boishakh. A warm wind
pauses at the village's edge, at the old cremation ground.

The rice spills when the cat's body brushes the pot;
licks its lips; a titmouse makes a nest within the ribcage.
Over the field a ridged path slowly wends its way

from village to distant village. Over all of Rasulpur,
sunlight
erupts by degrees. Brain matter melts to run from skulls.
The red earth will be fertile this year. Pahela Boishakh;

on hearing the dawn azan Fatima's father opens his eyes.
Breaking the fence in a single bound leap three foxes,
braided women's hair swing freely, on this mad morning.

Day lengthens. Round that witness bot tree fly a thousand vultures.
Plowing skulls. Mustard. The sun-wind laughs out,
spreading its flashing tongue to enter the village.

*1390 is the Bengali year: 1983.

Mohammed Rafique is a well-known Bangladeshi poet. His Collected Poems have been released by Papyrus, Dhaka. Khademul Islam is literary editor, The Daily Star.