Year of the Rat

By | 29 June 2008

Snow buries the country. Black-outs,
coal shortages, buses shunted
from highways. A man is crushed
at Guangzhou station. Here, the Spring City,
a month of blue skies, of quiet madness.

The slow crescendo of fireworks
as the New Year draws closer; gunshots
and ricochets, the lit horizon.
Saturday marks some turning point,
the noises are pincers on my brain.

Same time zone, but summer.
She's started running again
and it suits her. She shook the ground,
dislodged my assumptions.
I am most lonely in the mornings.

An argument happens, some stupid matter
of face. Hum of fridge and tv
crowds the room, emphasises
brutal emptiness,
my sudden hatred for this place.

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