Long Kazakh Poems

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.