premonitions

Killing
Is a strange sport
As you slowly bring close the flame;
The pitiful insect -
Its wings
Fluttering violently,
And then resigning
As if to the blossoms of a spring of the other world;
Its eyes
Lowering
Stupendous then be the flame
Nearing as it is
Closer still.
And then the rustle
All the childhood fries awakened in your memories
Banana, potato, tapioca, jackfruit
You relive all the distance
The distance between the stone and the mango
The fish and the colacasia leaf
The rain the paddy field and the hostel
And then you take your revenge
Slowly
Feeling the fire burning it way in through you
Through your nerves you restrained in an empty house in the sultry neighbourhood.

Killing is a strange sport
Killing yourself
Nearing the flame
Now fluttering, now resigned.