Makassar’s Ghost

Bloodshed is the only aftermath of intertwining peoples;

in readiness for the Toroja caves

finally free from his diabolical touch and

uneasy kisses

she no longer endures the needless snatching of her scent.

Once her lips lingered

to absorbing  his nakedness

that sharp rise of his cheek bone

the soft silken dark tone of his skin;.

now death is releasing her from this torment

thankful she still  is after his blessed strong hands.

Pass on her remains so there is nothing left of her

except the spirit that will hover over him at night

deep in the dream state

remembering  words as mistaken intentions of the flesh

remembering a heart dripping fire traversing the Indian Ocean

remembering how this was quashed upon discovering

the lacquered  Makasserese tradition

acquiescing to the unyielding might of neo capitalism


Leave her with them now

after he has dipped them in seawater

caked them in earth

baked them in fire;

the children will play with her remains.

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