Roots ran deep
At the front of the satin-engulfed staged
Invisible, bifurcations
Nodding at each other
In the breeze of history
Now, at the present history
They are flowers, their sources mystery
Nodding at each other
In the breeze of the golden symphony.
Mystery
Synapses clicked behind doors
Paper moved
Pen moved
The fan moved
The heads moved
Treaties locked within one another
Here, there is no other
Allies, no other
As far as they remember
Or pretend to remember
Strangers—eyes full of love
Stony eyes on their big breasts
Also full of love
And tights that fattened when the school flattened
And a the war razed the country
That time when the youth were screaming
Screaming, on fire.
It itched me
The roaring nest of glitterbodies
Lazily, though sometimes ferociously,
Roaming
Roaming
Roaming
Chemicals slowly stirring
Light slowly sleeping
Seeping
From the spongy pores of the high breeds
High breeds
Breeding on the soft velvet soil
Of the front row
It itches me
The simultaneous flash of iced diamonds
An after-signal of a dangerous explosion
Of the curious reaction of
Bombastic bombs of satin and lace
Traces of wabi-sabi, I pursued her
Pulling her delicate fibres with all my might
The cotton flakes curling at my force
And ,snap, she disappeared
Floated away, forever
Into the observer universe.
- Naychi
11th November 2018
Yangon
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