Inheritance
…the famine leaving all
the trees bereft of their bark, the villagers so
grateful for something, anything, to chew on.
…the famine leaving all
the trees bereft of their bark, the villagers so
grateful for something, anything, to chew on.
mother says: separation of voice
poet says: behave, moonbeam
mother says: the way you tell the moon to behave is transgressive, not Chinese
poet says: my voice is a splinter