the air was cold enough to turn your tears
to beads that night. they shimmered on the floor,
in jolting silence, as if they knew to clear
the air, for you to say goodbye once more.
your sorrow echoed as you walked away.
i thought, perhaps, that you were like the moon:
that you'd float back to me, if i could wait
for clouds to disappear, then you'd resume
your opal glow. instead of going home,
i stooped and cupped my palms to scoop the beads.
they gleamed so preciously. i thought, 'i know
you'll need these back when you return to me.'
a year has passed. the cries of storks recede.
i wait no longer. yet, i keep those beads.
London producer Jono Das makes instrumental hip-hop with a prize fighter's mindset: steeled, dynamic, and constantly adapting. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 27, 2022