A Glance to Her Stove
She’s the one who bakes the moon for me, especially when it’s eclipse.
Sometimes I wonder how, yet all I care is how to eat.
Did you hide something? You naughty! — she teased me once,
Or twice, it doesn’t even matter.
In rare ocassion, she cooks stew out of the sun.
My flowers are the meats. Because there was this monster helping her stealing the sun and the moon, ate them. Rather savagedly.
Sometimes she dances through any gardens she passes.
As lovely as it sounds, although her footsteps are turning red.
I think during the dance — that collects some dirts and grass for the garnish on my steak — she’s crying.
So loud that we can’t hear her.
Gondangdia, 24 Februari 2016