Delivery Boy
Dulwich College Beijing, Marianne Lu, Poetry Group 3
He clatters along the well-worn path,
Clutching at the reins.
And jolts upward with every bump
Lined across the uneven terrain.
He ducks to avoid a thicket of branches
And skillfully shields his head.
The dim lights streaming in his eyes,
Signals a village ahead.
White yurts are scattered in small, neat clusters
On a plain of golden sand.
A dirt path winds across the village,
Snaking across the land.
He grabs from a bag a handful of notes
That he’s been entrusted to deliver,
He skims through the mass of messages
To be handed to these villagers.
He sighs as he reads through page after page,
Of pointless monotonous repetition:
Notes of ‘Meet me by the dunes at four’,
He sighs at his tedious mission.
His experienced fingers flip through the notes,
Sorting in droning labor.
He wishes it took less exertion
To send messages to your neighbors.
He mounts off his camel with a graceful leap,
And brushes off soot and dirt.
He places a crumpled note in the hands of
The inhabitant of the first yurt.
He works his way through village after village,
Wiping off drops of sweat.
When he arrives at the entrance of the very last yurt,
His shirt is soaked and wet.
