Chamnongsri L Rutnin Hanchanlash
Illustration: Indigo
Oh, if they would only take the pinkness
out of the Kleenex
I’d leave it here in tender forgetfulness
to doze its mortality away
I’d let it laze under the May green leaves
on the dreamless mush-bed of brown decay
I’d leave it to die in quiet abandon
to dissolve to the dulcet tone of the spring rain’s touch
drifting gently towards sweet disintegration
to the lulling lullabies of the rhythmic lake
I’d let it lie listening to the water
that whispers timeless tales to rotting leaves
I’d let it watch how leizuredly the lake laps at Time’s forefinger
lapping, lapping to the very edge of infinite nothingness
that mortals love to call “Eternity”
Oh, never should they dye tissues pink
Nor bleach them purity white
Nor inflict them with baby-eye blueness
Nor colour them like canaries in sunlight
For, the poor prettily coloured things are destined
For the shiny dumbness of the heedless plastic bin