In the early hours
of a new year
bursts of firecrackers
penetrated
cold December air
the smell of gunpowder
and renewed hope
rose high
and
sound couldn’t quite separate
fake fire from real
as a man lay dead
from a bullet to the chest
at a kovil in Colombo
Where he was
praying for peace.
(From Stitch your Eyelids Shut Colombo, Akna: 2010)
