Yellow drapes

Silence like the yellow tarps      drapes around a Buddhist funeral. Beyond lies incense and wilting carnations.

silence bred by hate can only be escaped 

By the removal of one’s physical presence

Either ‘I’m going to leave you now’ or 

      Murder, like the burning of paper wives, you still after your fucking virgins. The silence

can never break,

breaks you instead. Like 

      a howling soldier crawls through mustard gas. Sky cries.

Wet funeral.

Yellow bus seats on the way to your widow, family of the deceased.

god I hated you.


Author: naomi

Student, likes learning about foreign cultures, shall not divulge anymore so my identity is not exposed!

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