In her backyard,
Severed telephone wires streak across
The waning crescent moon.
Smoke rises from the empty garage. Complacent,
Thoughts turn my head back
Towards the basement, her bedroom.
I part my lips for a pipe as I did
for her goodnight kiss hours ago. Here,
Sitting, shaking, shook,
I resign to reside.
Silence splintered
By whining, distant sirens,
Authority's announcement. Crying to be heard,
What is said?
Do they necessitate an audience?
Do I? Do I need, any thing?
Drawing again from my pipe,
I resign to refrain.
Once more silence
Consumes the night.
Smoke clouds gray
the waning crescent moon.
A bowl-pack can last
only so long, and I'm tired.
I resign to return.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem