For Nguyen Van Kham (1954-2010)
The Mekong river was a seam between
your former town and another no-man's-land,
but still you were assigned a destination
bordering on even greater unknowns.
Judging by the bank statements
we suspect you lived here
among us, fourth floor, in an expired
calendar year, a squeaky clean chap.
While generations of Egyptians worried
about their procedures for years, you became
a mummy on your own, unwell and
lying beside your bed, averted from life.
A seven-minute broadcast on TV,
your departure was reported in the news,
a column on page two of the paper,
more attention than you ever knew.
Your disappearance made us feel uneasy,
indignation brought us closer together
as neighbours - Jenny next door would have
liked a coffee had she spoken your language.
We failed, I readily admit, first noticing you
when your money did not show up.
Considering your years of silence beyond
death, we should have known who you are.
...
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