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emmanuel kalusian<br />
Ideal Ego<br />
What my mother did that night was to ask me to go in and close the door of<br />
my room, and when I had closed the door, she asked if I had<br />
hid myself properly under the bed. I said "yes", though I think my response<br />
was lost before it slipped through the door and went out to<br />
meet her.<br />
gunshots<br />
the helter-skelter<br />
of shadows<br />
Next morning. I woke up. A flame was waving and flickering from a candle.<br />
I had slept under the bed, and I think mum had forgotten I was even there.<br />
melting candle<br />
lingering for awhile<br />
the shadow of light<br />
Everywhere I went that day, there was a gunshot. In school, during<br />
the afternoon break, I remember asking a friend of mine: "Did you hear<br />
that?" and his answer was: "I think it's the headmaster's car!"<br />
high afternoon<br />
a heron sipping<br />
some sewage water<br />
I told mum everything. The gunshots I thought I heard in school, and<br />
even on my way back from school. She laughed, and when I told her it<br />
wasn't funny, she laughed again. Then, she asked me to go in and eat my<br />
food.
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