An American Wakes in New Delhi

By JC Williams

The potato peddler’s cry rings out 

as streets yawn into another day. 

Aloo, Aloo.  

First, distant. 

Then, just beyond my room’s guarded gate. 

Three-wheeled taxis soon dart past 

foot travelers balancing bundles over uneven paths. 

Motorbikes dare bicyclists 

to hold their fragile place, join the melee of horns 

that drown the dawn birds’ chorus. 

My driver thinks I am sheltered, sitting 

on leather seats inside his polished Maruti. 

Its windows are rolled tight, as if glass could seal out 

lingering smoke from fires that warm camps 

rising nightly on neighborhood streets. 

He steers around workers absorbed in morning resolve, 

past thin brown hands that reach toward us 

with cries of paise, paise. My driver pretends 

I don’t see.  Perhaps he also imagines I hear

only sorrow in the peddler’s morning call. 

JC Williams began writing poetry after careers in philosophy and law. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Months to Years, Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, Last Stanza Poetry Review, The Pan Haiku Review, Prachya Review, and inScribe. In addition to poetry, her loves are her partner, their daughter, and tai chi. She currently lives in Maryland.