After Du Fu
Shopper drops jade bracelet, then collapses in shock.

When I get to level 47 the air is almost breathable.

A cold wind blows beyond the river of ancestors,

past the cars in the lobby of the Marriott hotel.

So much is held in commercial confidence. Things

get karaoked into existence when a song is played twice.

I tap ‘love’ on an image of a single drone, hovering

over an artificial lake. This is a night for uploading

images of the new winter line. Revive our hearts, Lord.
NB: The first line of this poem is taken from a newspaper headline.