The money changer

 You are very brave to
Read this poem
It is blasphemy in a
Teacup
For how many gods
Can you write about
They are sitting in the shop
Row upon row
Looking out at you
Yet you stare the other way

Then one starts to cry
Looking out into the green rice field
With all the tears of god

The child leans over
Held by the mother beggar
Drinking milk in the hot midday sun
Surely this is not
gods work

The Buddha has
been sold
And the money changer
has made sure of that!