I take the last boat on the Icchhamati River.

the huddled shadows in the gloam
talk of home
a waiting bed
before climbs the moon overhead.

In little comforts voices bask
amid oars sloshing the night
and  I brood in silence
neath the  northern star

how far is home
how far?

i am naked
and been exposed
i deserve it
i suppose
pretending
at mending
a broken-ness
and making
such a mess
of things
among an audience
never once
thinking
of the pain
i'd be bringing
of a secret
i behold
i regret
i never told
the tears
i cry
i, now
disguise
failing
to realize
my character
being
compromised

we know
     we will die one day
but we don't believe it

the heart
cannot repair
the heart
in much despair
the heart
missing these pair
the heart
feels the unfair

exiled from the venue
our writing brothers
their words expelled
by unseen smothers

swift the extradition
of a movement quick
the removal done
with a rapidness of click

no more seeing the
works they did ably create
our kinsmen vanishing
off the forum's slate

the heart languishing
without our kindred
being around
the heart so dispirited
their expression fell
silent of sound