It's fumigation day at Gita Bayu
Barbed fences and small dogs wearing shoes
Guard the entrance.

Through the smoke, men in gas masks sway
With their guns, past the palatial four-stories.
Small women adjust their Hijabs between
Scrubbing cars.

I sit and suck in the grey stuff
Open-legged, make weird noises
From my cigarette-hole.

I use all my hands to cover my breasts
Turn my head and weep when they stare at me.