Indian Summer

99 in the shade built on brittle bones of
coolie slaves sucking in dirt and debris for a pop tart
glitter-back ballerina tee,
made in Roxanna’s Bangladeshi sweat pit
cloth cities built on the tea coloured wheeze and yellow
ridged knuckles of bare bone, marmalade English and
malnourished toes.

The choking yoke of childhood smothered by the colonial
hiss of sewing machines and pink silk fairy fingers pick
and pull ,inside out.
Made with care little tots too small to sit on chairs
balance on boxes cross legged: their playtime needles and
pins gouging, pricking, pus the bin.

So when you slide on your skinnies – thigh pride blue or
rock those curves in hipsta flares you’re also
sharing and wearing Salma’s rickets in those riveted seams
a labour of slave scabs and pulmonary disease.

Factory owner creaming the dream part of Hollywood’s
glorious sleaze, Bel Air pride gaps country club smiles
While ‘cockroaches,’ of Calcutta shoulder the stinking
greed of a Walmart price freeze,
slap you into place
A dime dollar disgrace wow wow pickaninny please
Buy me Buy me Buy me
And the fist of servitude punches blue punches green
Buy me Buy me
Till the milksops bleed bleed bleed.

Saira Viola is an author, poet, song lyricist, satirist and creator of innovative literary technique sonic scatterscript . Most of her work is infused with undercurrents of social commentary and philosophy and her novels are distinguished by surreal plots and memorable characters . Viola has been widely published on both sides of the Atlantic including Push magazine Internationalist Times, and Gonzo Today Read other articles by Saira.