Seventy

for the Tin brothers

Before you close your eyes, do you see

the jungle parting?

Overhead a shotgun fires

through dense palm fronds

a flying fox falls

 

Before the bulldozers come, do you hear

pigs squealing, from dung

water hyacinths sprout

pigs on fire, yelping

fire, fire, growing wings

nesting in attap roofs

igniting homes where

you once played

 

Before it ends, will you remember

the girl across the dance floor

her unavailable smile

the lonely bow of a Tioman ferry

feet dangling, your slipper falls

a speck of black rubber

swallowed by the cresting swirl