Poems

Ambalavan Pokkanai Street, May 2009

A small kingdom or a great dream –  
a final procession 
on a ruined sandy road.
 
Along the way
shit, corpses, open wounds, people, vehicles. 
What crumbles beneath your feet? 
Is it sand or is it hope?
 
The last bunker has fallen. 
The last flare
drowned in the sea.
The last bus has left 
with the defeated. 
And you too have left
with the last word.

Share this poem