LETTER | Paris, Hermès, is Birkin’s home,
Where Rosie loved to roam.
In her customary swagger,
With a smile like a dagger.

Rosie, Rosie, why did you lust?
Was every Birkin for you a must?
Bags from Hermès, one of a class,
But in your hands just cheap crass.

In every pattern, size and hue,
You bought them all brand new.
Hundreds of bags for every season,
You never needed rhyme nor reason.

Your greed is shocking, staggering,
We the rakyat still reeling, recovering.
What did you carry in your Birkin bag?
How many diamond rings, you hag?

How much money has gone missing?
While your lips your bags are kissing!
The nation in debt in at least a trillion,
While each Birkin cost almost a million.

Enough to feed the whole of Malaysia,
And also other poor countries in Asia.
Marcos and Imelda now look like lambs,
Compared to your sick, scheming scams.

The nation suffered, economy crumbling,
Value of the ringgit terrifying, tumbling.
Have you no guilt, have you no shame?
That you still desired the Birkin name?

Your bags reflect excessive vulgarity,
Their price tags a ridiculous obscenity.
Your pride and vanity came to nought,
For grace and dignity cannot be bought.

Each Birkin bag has a lock and key,
So what it contains we cannot see.
Its shiny diamond feature encrusting,
To us, the rakyat, is simply disgusting.

The metallic lock is palladium-plated,
Your ravenous appetite will be sated.
With each baby crocodile that is killed,
The hide is made, and you are thrilled.

At one year old, the alligators shot,
With a deadly gun, a captive bolt.
Innocent creatures, a cruel fate,
It awaits you too, at Hell’s Gate.

MEERA BADMANABAN is an ordinary Malaysian citizen who wonders what will happen to all those confiscated Birkin bags.

The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of Malaysiakini.