Sugarcane

Yati Raj Ajnabee
Adelaide, Australia

Neither have I boughs to roof your head
Nor have I the floret to embellish your plait
I don’t have pollen to slake your intemperate itch
I have no fruits to fill your bottomless pit
I neither knew to bud nor did I know to bear a fruit
As I don’t know which flower
And which grain to offer to which deity,
I am an X.
The plant is known here by its fruit
And the size and weight of the fruit it bears
I exist until I remain so-and-so
I am notched and imbibed by those who know me
The only thing I have is the honeyed fluid substance
Hidden in me like toothsome nectar in poetry.
So as to let you get sweet on me,
I have to be cut, crushed and gulped.