
I see you will haggle over your wares
sell them to me for the price I ask
I know you have many gods
little and large, in stock
so I make my offer
much to your outrage—
how dare I belittle the deity
I hold in my outstretched hand?
So precious I should fall at its feet
not negotiate over its head—
hush, you say, such sacrilege you
cannot tolerate
I must be reasonable, not violate
your sacred space
I stand resolute in your face
my offer is no disgrace to sanctity
only a question of profit, I buy
you sell
as God is my witness
it is truth I speak
perhaps, you the keeper of such value
alone know what it is
the sticker on the figure
is a matter of trade
I retreat, leave the idol on your shelf
but hear you call me back,
pull a wrapper and roll it around
the little figurehead,
for a nickel more than
I offered,
both accept.
© Neetu Malik
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