By the point the Thames's twist,
there too is my dawn.
Drown, sea of Buddha you laugh,
by walking pass a rimed scent,
I use my sleeves to wipe
and bury a tiptoe of rock.
Fist it holds hourglass of sand,
lotus in an eternity, mother always said that
——stream it flies faster once your fingers snap tighter.
Now here is my bouquet for a northern wind,
company a hoe and waft me and mud,
ascending petals so we could eye each other,
and the bare bough, the willows, the elms,
hear the whisper in me,
long breathe, muddy breeze,
would you prison my
grey sand in hand,
one more time?
YOU ARE READING
Tigress from the east
PoésieA poetry collection written by a Chinese girl. Biggest life goal of her: sitting in perfect balance of daylights and nights, back towards a mysterious naked tree, a cup of chai is better than coffee. Thinking, turn a being as living
