Last taxi to Sohryngkham
An Elegy for Angeline Kharmalki
Memory is triangular Like frames that melt in flames We burn to fight a cold, cold winter. Night brings strange insects Feeds her anxiety Moths plan a mass suicide Inside her mind. The windows are blur. The humming pine winds set the score The rain was always a part of the plan. Until a coal truck slides and falls over As she finally flies.
(And all our love- Hate games Unread letters, And scores Settled In a flash)