Faded portraits, and fading still

forget, ya forget

late afternoons on the verandah

of yr gedong besaran in salemba

au bon pain from yr favourite boulangerie alsatienne

in passer baroe

see how the leather

on the backseat of your sado

is peeling

like a thousand sails

forget everything

the proper spelling

in the long letters youve been writing in clipped, proper, eton v. harrow english

to yr boyfriend away from home in den haag

kassian,

think about the future of this broad avenue

perhaps,

75 years after the dissolution of yr volksraad

a couple of pribumis will walk along the crowded corner at its end

and,

looking for an ancient ice cream parlour theyve read so often in history books

find it closed for business

o,

the heat of late kemarau !

the pink paint on its wall

the colour of washed out blood.

War Cry

I have left you for aeons
I have left you for the comfort of love
I have left you for a three-year guarantee of happiness
I have left you

I will try to get you back
by the river bend bursting with melati fronds.
I will get you back
before the boatman calls.

I will get you

There will be no grievance from me
No old socks soaked with dew
No staring at the clear moon
No more crystal curtains

No
Not from me

This time I mean it
Yes, sirree.
I will not let death's dream kingdom
get me in my sleep.
I will not let it get me
on the prow of my black ship.

Not I