by Amiththan Sebarajah
(for my uncles, for the the people of batticaloa; for their resiliency)
Years ago
We used to trap sprightly little fish
With our bare hands
By the river front
Always with bare hands
Fearing only the catfish stinger
The occasional mudcrab pincher
Amma said one day
‘Be wary of those bare hands
Dead things float by’
And watch out, too, for bare hands
Breaking through the ground, bound and broken
