yellow buckets
on the ferris wheel rust
in a field of grass ...
not even a bird call
in this Chernobyl wasteland

 
in the market-place
a pile of red chillies
catches the light ---
the blush on my cheeks
when your eyes meet mine

 
two brilliant stars...
Blake's words 'tiger, tiger
burning bright'
stalk my mind
as I toss and turn