1.17.2021

and here you come— a cricket’s dance in the woods— in a fog-colored zoot suit

Soak in a hot bath; 
arrange my futuristic hair, 
then, the futon & the cushioned tatami. 
Cut orchids, cut fruit. 
Set the table for plenty, 
(but there is only one of me). 
And here you come— 
a cricket’s dance in the woods— 
in a fog-colored zoot suit. 
Your eyes are red & bleary. 
I am practicing good purity. 
I do not get angry. 

But here comes my father with the tiger’s claw. 
He paces and frets; I get no rest. 
The caged animal must be released. 
 
Here comes my mother with the serpent’s touch. 
I know the dim mak: the touch of death, 
I know the softness of the temples, 
the groin, the heart. 
 
Here come my sisters with the lizard’s tongue 
to expel the secret in a moment’s hiss. 
But they are slow on their haunches. 
I shall strike first. 
 
The weir-basket was a snare; 
the fish within were dying. 
You promised me fresh fish. 
You promised unconditional love and 
providence. 
 
Here comes my brother with the ox’s heart 
to explain the world in a plum’s pit. 
He is not your kind. 
You don’t understand his plight; 
nor does he your fomenting silence. 

Tiger’s claw, serpent’s touch, lizard’s tongue, ox’s heart. 
The caged animal is released. 
I believe in the touch of life. 
I shall keep my secret always. 
Although you have lost your way, 
you have never forsaken me. 
you have been whole. 
you have been good. 
 

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