I said sky

and with a stainless-steel plate covered 

the rotis going stale 

I said tree

and with a broom began to sweep

my courtyard 

The tree’s shadow 

turned squirrel, climbed and sat on the wall

and as soon as I called, leapt 

into the neighbour’s yard 

Dusting the window sill I saw,

the butterfly’s unfurling wings 

were bigger than all the concrete buildings 

Cloud—I spoke softly into the ear of the butterfly

and carried on mulling in the air

for a long while 

I said earth

and continued to search

for myself, a place to stand.