Through the grime smiles Mahatma Gandhi

A ditty about something I found in my wallet.

Through the Grime Smiles Mahatma Gandhi

Resembling the deathbed of an ancient rat,
or a door mat
where a fossil once shat.

This filthy, spent sponge.

It’s been stuffed inside a Goan fisherman’s dhoti.
It’s filled the bill for a homeless leper’s roti.

It’s been stood on, bled on, sneezed on, wiped.
Supplied food, murder, schooling, wives.

This particular rhyme, I quote,
describes this Indian, ten Rupee note.

Other poems by The Word Dog

With Love

Under a Tree in Rishikesh


Under a Tree in Rishikesh