Po Po dreams / of glaucoma moon / a white meihua flowering / through alluvial

night / she dreams each strand of light / a stemmed grief / stirring the parable

of her face / dreams each eye unhinging / like swollen figs / as the wok-dark

smoulders her deeper / into the fever of steamed fish / into the incorporeal salt 
of ever dissolving dreams / where some nights she awakens / nestled in the strange /

grasses of a half-parted world / seeding the soil with her astonishment / as she slow

dances amongst schisandra leaves / as she skips stones like unhoarded decades /

as she calls out to her grandchildren / gathered on distant plains / their feathery 
heads aglow / like meihuas thawing / into impossible morning / & sometimes there

grows a silence / which glistens like apples / the music box of nectar / she cleaves open

to fill the aching / fermata of her hollowed gums / & sometimes she watches meihua

sun / blossom brutal black / beneath reddening sprig of dusk / & she understands 
the sea’s greyness / to be a mirror without / the home of its reflection / & all through

alluvial night / she digs out the compass of the horizon / to etch divinations /

into the cicatrix of stars / to omen herself into sky / before geographies of sight /

harden into cataracts of maps / before the slow trains of sleep / bear her back through 
the dark wheat of dreams / into the shimmering station / of this snow-rocked room /

of this world she could never / part with / where the blankets sculpt her bedlam /

body into the impermanence of summer frost / & the pale plosives / of her breath

unpetal over her / a white meihua mourning / something unspeakably soft