In the curfew
mist lifts
roads are besotted by stray dogs
policemen
and inside houses
the television waits
announcing finally of let up of hours
three more dead
situation is ' normal '
swirling around heads, in '' sensitive '' areas
normalcy has too many wounds and gashes
won't return so easily
needs to be hospitalized, along with the living
the dead need to be morgued
their memories to be written in gravess
and they pointing accusing fingers at skies
the killers are guilty
of not killing more
the admininistration is happy
that things were '' tight ''
loosen, slowly from clutches of the dead
they need resurrection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem