In the Year of the Fig-Leaf Dragon,
    in the Cave Beneath the Appleblossom Grove,

children suspended in chrysalises

fabricated from flowing water

 

spin slowly in a cave bisected by a river

a god’s low whistle chiseled

 

in the ancient gift of earth. Every snake

is an ouroboros, insensate, with scales

 

bright as mirrors. Every mirror is a convex

sphere.          Every scale I finger on the piano

 

returns to me, from the other, in the shape of

a memory suspended in a cocoon.

 

A fledgling bird, slicing earth like paper,

emerging from ground under ground.

 

*

 

Water unsettled is the shifting

shadow of something too big to love

 

easily. Riverwater revels uphill.

Plum sky overripens. Birds flee.

 

A boneless song passes the spray & dissolves.

Releases like an air-leak’s icy hiss.

 

*

 

The view from inside of the whistle is the sensation of

things falling apart. The view from inside of the piano

 

is the sensation of being beaten by solid drops of rain.

The view from inside the chrysalis is darkness. The view

 

from within the children is the sensation of squinting

in the darkness at something     no longer possible to see.


Also by Lizzy Ke Polishan

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