The swallowtail top
Of the ancient building
Caught
The luck
I had given away
I was in a world where incense
Is not burned
But surrounded by its smoke
To let forget
The human fear
Of being known
Before green tea
And plum wine
Are offered
Passerine
Like a yellow bird
In a cold mind
The incense
Lined on my table
In shapes of red cones
Let me promise
What I had forgotten
About the luck
The swallowtail top
Of the house
Had caught
Then, when the smoked
Was fanned
When the red cones turned to ashes
And grey
I had green tea
And sweet plum wine
October 16, 2018
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2018
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