Leavings In June
The moths come to my home. They swarm into a cloud
Against the white light as though laying siege
On a city that has long given in to melancholy.
I have no words to put them under spell.
Only, the evening seems to break apart into memories
Of arrivals and departures,
The long haul of solitude, silences forbidding as closed doors.
Without the comfort of sleep, I carry my body
Beneath a scattering of stars
Almost weightless and dissolving.
I know the consequences of bad rhythms,
How they place a loop around one’s fate
And the act of enduring is stretched, frayed, discarded.
On the fringes of this forest there must be a pathway
That leads to a magical clearing.
I am drawn towards it too as the others,
In all passages of dreams,
One inescapable drift much heard about and taken.
Koh Kong, Cambodia
17 June 2011