Photo by maxime niyomwungeri on Unsplash

Hawker

/ˈhɔːkə/

The sound of it lingers, hovering
As the first half stretches
Long velar stops at the side of the road
Blue sky backdrop to these streets, your stage

Class act, third of the world’s pantomime
For survival in good, better or best climes

A fluid stretch of territory where your cries
Ride the wind and vibrate the air violently
Despite the moist shimmer that draws
The curious or hungry for nyokas

For the first time I see your segments
And crane to glimpse your pulsing shape

You obelisk as the sun dips
And fall back from the hustle
Late night calls for different birds
Tomorrow you will return to hawk again.