ဆေးပြင်းလိပ် – A Poem by J H Martin


No call
No mail

But I am not angry

These days
These months

They are all out of sorts

I find it hard
To keep track of them

From Sanchaung
To the Middle Kingdom

I hear news
But make none of my own

Tied to the past
With no clear path ahead

I am walking in circles
Talking to walls

There is no need
To share that with you

Is there?

Not now
Not in detail

You are there

On your own island
With your own shadows


We can try to describe
What the hours feel like

Not over wine
But over tea

I have rolled
Fresh country cigars


© J H Martin

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