Why does she arrive?

She comes in a tonga cart
smelling like shit
wearing tattered old clothes;
made from old bedsheets
and crown made of used paper bags.

The princess come right
onto my desk
taking a dip in my
fabulously new pool
of dark blue liquid.

But why can’t she be adorned in flowers
or decked in jwellery?
making me a pauper.

Um. Ahem.. Cough. It hurts.
A series of life-sustaining noises
creep out of this carefully sealed jar.

I can’t even find rice
to paste this envelope
like my mother used to.

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Five fingers

A gust of wind

blew sharply over my shoulders

pages flipping,

countless lines flying by.

 

Rain clouds gather over my terrace

My legs feeling the drops,

fall off my ankle,

leaving a wet spot on my blue camping chair.

 

the air is now colder;

I wrap muffler around my neck,

Its warm.

It’s not the same.

 

Far behind the clouds,

the sin shines

with bedazzled beauty

And I protect myself

from the sudden absence of gloom.