A Long Goodbye
You fixed Mongolian stew
on a two ring Russian-made burner.
It was understood,
that we would not be drinking
salted milk tea
in Ulan Bator anytime soon.
I would be moving on,
you would be moving into
this one room, bed-less apartment.
Kazakh embroidery,
added an exotic ambience.
to the threadbare living-space.
Later we laid down on goatskins,
imagined that this cold room
was a warm yurt.
Our bodies were a perfect fit,
for an imperfect love.
We kept ourselves warm
beneath thick woolen Deel's,
which we both knew
were the national costume,
of the desperately lost.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
