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Whose wings are these discarded by the hundreds and the thousands here flapping in the morning air, a challenge to the business end of my broomstick? Their owners, lured by its light, came here to dance their rounds around the yellow lightbulb and danced until exhausted, and then cast off their wings.

Bright and early coming downstairs I see the lawn littered with wings: Little wings the size of tamarind leaves translucent as a bead of dew as fragile as a blade of sun.

termite wings

Translated from the Thai by Noh Anothai

Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash

Structo Issue 17  

Issue 17 features 104 pages of outstanding fiction and poetry, an essay on the unknown side of Jerome K. Jerome, and interviews with Vera Ch...

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