Confetti
Love and money
S. Nihal Singh
A guide
with a big brass badge
calls out to the gods
to give him echoes.
The afternoon light
filters through trellis work
giving unsuspected depth
to flowers of stone.
Lantern in hand,
he lights
the darkness
of graves.
His sonorous voice
reverberates in the dome of the Taj
and returns
in muffled gurgles.
An outstretched palm tells why
he bellowed so loud.
Shahjahan,
they make money out of your love.
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