And when you discover they lie

those siblings in the mother country, those parasites

who spend every hard-earned cent of your remittances

on Mao Tai and Fan Tan

and still beg for more –

when you see the opulent mansions of your cheating ancestors

and smell the simmering pots fill with your own cash and sweat

your never laying down the cleaver – well, you can imagine
on their dog's paws a single piece of jade will turn black with the years

you pay off the mortgages on their graves

and yours are dug in the slagheap of mines – well, you can imagine
the ripping of photos will commence

the forgetting of their names.
How a singular duty has led you to this –

your shop full of dragons in a year of crying tigers.

You say: 'This is my wealth, my friend, a secret duck sauce for two dollars

but when I think of our ancestors – ahh you can imagine

worse than the bloody government!

Museums are full of lies!'

The burning of their boats shall commence!