The engine’s soft hum,

Out of the dawn-lit window,

Snowy jagged peaks

— Descending to Geneva, early morning local time

Reverberation;

Endless stairs spiraling up

Tomb of ancient stone

— Saint Piere Church Geneva, South Tower

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I once bought chocolates

From a place I've never been

carried it all back

as my mind carried a scene

of family around the table

sharing bites of foreign taste

But now, eight months later

they're all going to waste

I once bought chocolates

thinking I bought smiles with them

while sweetness burns my throat

and all chocolates now taste the same

even the sweet ones ...

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Chanting prayers, dreaming of ships just beyond the horizon,

Another day, another hour, just another minute he wishes to live.

No other choice but one, no other food, no other flesh but his own.

No other way to feed his unfortunate child.

In the middle of nowhere, on this desolate rock, he cut his upper arm.

Blood, not a drop allowed to waste, meat, sickening yet juicy sweet

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