by Kerol Harrod
He works all day in the sewage line
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
Two dark hands, his only tine
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
Caste and curse his days assign
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
Day after day in the sewage line
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
Delhi sing, city shine
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
To his fate he does resign
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
His labor there makes light of mine
"I live smelling death, but it is fine."
Day after day in the sewage line
Kerol Harrod lives in Denton, Texas with his wife and two daughters. He has published news and opinion articles in a variety of forgettable publications, such as The Denton Record-Chronicle, The Flywheel, Inside Track, and The Denton Scramble magazine. In 2003, he recorded and toured a CD of protest music, Police State of the Union, which dealt with current events (at the time), specifically the Iraq War. It enjoyed some airplay in the Austin and Houston area. He currently works in the reference department of the Denton Public Library.
Editor's Note: The poem was inspired by a BBC From Our Own Correspondents story.
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