(shattered)
flute sounds
suburban photographs
she smells like coffee
I smell like gasoline
my eyes are open and brown
mostly forgettable
cancer was cured
as children danced under the rain
thieves surrendered
towers and antennae collapsed
the galaxies moved closer
and we carried them in our guts
and brains and hearts
and she opens up,
her colours are new colours
they have no names
the end approaches
we all taste the storm
the good memories
and nothing remains
*from Yellow Street Light Madness, Fauze Hassen, 2018.