Issue 5 – 6
by Michelle Noteboom
About 2.5 small memories
wrapped in a packet of brown
treachery dressed in vibrant pink
puddles. In Maw Paeng falls away
the water, made of dirt and full.
The woman had scissors and
plastic rain, but we were me on
the rock. Lahu villagers burned
romantic, tattered and shabby
paper pictures over shoulders. She
pasted a component of grin at
this. Gushing pungent white,
floating didn’t do us. We dip to
one boulder forever. She pulled
sticky wrinkled clouds or rather
orange mud from that bag.
Sideways cigarettes right here. So
many opium photos to smell.
Lisu reassurance smeared the spot
on the path. A Western place on
the road, carefully determined to
drown. Nervous looks hold and
blow the wind rolled into itself.