The tofu man’s cart rattles along dimly lit roads,
Calling out to those in want of warm ginger soup.
He clatters a bell piercing through the song of crickets and toads.
In the shadows, a young lady emerges around the loop.
She smiles as he ladles a generous serving into a bowl,
And hands cupping the dish, lets the steam rise up into her face.
It might rain; there is a sound of plopping liquid as she gives it a taste.
Dropping a coin in his palm she hurries away, and to his horror he sees his soup trailing behind,
Through her back from a big gaping hole.
For a poem based on exotic mythology, I was inspired by a trickster spirit my mother told me about, in the form of a woman with a hole in her back. Bolong means hole in Indonesian, and I suppose it would be a fun (but scary for the victim obviously) prank to play on anything requiring the digestive passageway. I am behind on 30 poems for NaPoWriMo with 10 left to go, but congratulations to everyone who completed the challenge today! I will continue writing the prompts – there is lots of inspiration just not enough time – and hopefully this is not a total faux-pas.
Thanks for reading,