From The Wild Great Wall
By Zhu Zhu
a belated book. if i’d read it earlier,
a filament in my pupils would have gone off, the vocal cords
turning transparent in the dark, rhyming with purgatory.
there was always a little giant with a thoughtful female listener,
bearing all else for the ear’s felicity: hunger,
fear, and her own life; there were always encounters in hallways
upon leaving early, to borrow a lighter, to mock
and laugh marching to the reverse side of the era. watch out,
your cinders splashed onto my skirt. no,
that was the big hole burned in the screen of public consent.
dare we walk further? where? do you want me
to shoot another bullet at the kremlin?
no, my dear, learn to let yourself go,
no more can i be in your company, i must stay,
and become a wraith of reality, casting echoes.
