Khin Aung Aye
I can knock your jaws off.So the story goes…In that corner,Delousing or debugging Almost ending up in sex. A poem I slept with a night too late, What I’ve been imbibing for four/five years, All have come into being just now.The flowers that dare to singThe restless midnight bellsThe wild buffalos petrified of dreaming. Above floating curtainsHistory in the form of a silk lace.These are just portrayalsBy milestones we have passed And ashes in our clenched fists. As for me,He who’s using talcum powder,He who’s using fragranced soap. Ahead of us,Doors opening ajar, one after another, And an obsequious dog who knows exactly his master’s desires.The dark cloud sinning to the end of the samsara.I had to swallow a bit of arak. Then, After a lot of ‘thens’,I was sold by my own street-smartness. All I get in return are gilded footstepsFutures fashioned by a stray. Listen… As if just waking up,The mouth that’s about to be nitpicking me,Like picking mushrooms and bamboo shoots,The look about to bury you alive, Along with them, A pair of hypocritical hands. Between the two of us,There never was a misunderstood kyat.Now you want to murder me? What day was it yesterday?