Shades, slanting shades of amber
In their door, calligraphy &
               Inscriptions
They hang their night dress on the bamboo frame
You immediately found sudden drunken moments and lust
Masks of bright red love
             of the archaic and the exotic

pictures in sepia, palpable footages
of their unbruised native fruits
              on long-stemmed bronze plates

A walled garden of moss, china and necks

But then in dirt, in the ragged black pyjamas
               cowered against collapsed thatched roof
               trembling fingers raised, so small, birds.
The urge of kills. You reached for the bayonets

Next, the rages, rages to complete. Machine-guns.