Burmese Days

The cicadas were loud that year
stubbed round the house
we pecked at scraps
from a pizza box

I saw the harbour gleaming
like a tooth / the filaments
unravelling
your eyes
in the window
like a wolf

Looting was unforeseen
the infantry
would mop that up

The integers squared away
the indigiens sealed
up / in their stupor
plastic box