top of page

Impromptu Detachment

San Lin Tun

by San Lin Tun



Things became smaller,

as distance grew between them.

Estrangement set in, their affair abruptly ended.

She deliberately reached out her hand

to touch his as flinched gradually,

withdrawing from her dearest embrace,

a closely-knitted tie between them unknotted.


As if a kite was disentangled from its string,

while the kite runner intentionally snatched it off,

as he felt a sense of ennui, flying it.

He glanced blankly at the drifting kite,

wondering where it would land,

or who would be its next owner.

But he didn’t care.


A gleeful little boy saw it and wanted to possess it,

Realizing it showed no hint of ever coming towards his direction,

He started to cry out of disappointment, so loud, then a shrill,

The kid’s mom consoled him that she would buy him a new one,

brighter one, saying it was no use, crying over a spilt milk.


When they left the playground, heading for home,

the mischievous little boys’ face lit up, knowing

his daddy would be at home, waiting for him to play;

such felicity replaced the temporary veil of sadness.

But, Mom sighed inaudibly for fear of disclosing

the reality to her dearest only son, as she knew

that her irresponsible hubby would not be

with them anymore like a ran-away kite,

after he left with a woman living next door.

Comentários


  • Bluesky_logo_(black)
  • X

About

We are a Chile-based literary review founded in November 2024. We aim to publish articles and reviews of books, films, videogames, museum exhibits, as well as creative essays, short stories, poetry, art, and photography in both English and Spanish. We believe that literature and art are a global language that unite its speakers and our enjoyment of it can be shared in ways that are fun, thoughtful, and full of innovation. We invite you and everyone to who loves art and books or who just love interesting things to contribute to our literary review!

You can contact us at ultramarineliteraryreview@gmail.com.

You can also submit to us at Duotrope.

© 2024 by Ultramarine Literary Review. Powered and secured by Wix

bottom of page