this disturbance of nocturne
body of a Malay girl at the back of truck
naked, half covered in funeral white cloth
eye still open
her family will find the crypt vacant by morn light
WE HAVE TO ship her back.
parked illegally at pick up point
presence of processions beneath block of the dead
spectres, overcrowding, bright orange banners, candles, flowers
I can’t wash the wake from my skin
A fat boy squatting on the curb, zen hysterical babbling
this haunting is not for him. i tell him to go home.
I tell the Jap whore in the truck to go home
happiness is in her face
because we are not in her
she will escape the gang banging.
I want to fight with the indian boy, standing above the naked corpse.
why did we need to steal the dead in order to have sex with the living?
see, the Jap harlot is overjoyed and running away
I do not want to handle the body. it is becoming softer instead of rigid
the flesh might unclump with a bursting of flies and insects
this is not my doing.
this haunting is not for me.
the fat boy starts his noise again.
we have attracted the cops.
painfully, i know they will find the corpse. how would we explain?
as the first cop climbs the truck, the stolen gun is fired.
this is not my desire.
but this is my doing.
i kill the second cop seconds after.
the funeral cloth is desecrated with warm bodies.
the fat boy is babbling.
the sun is coming
there is no daughter to bury