By M.L. Chan
Naked she stands before the edge of a
waterfall cascading; the blackened clouds
unleash their fury: bolts tearing the sky
apart, roars amplifying the downpour,
and raindrops diluting the salty tears.
Downward she fearfully gazes to find
foaming and fuming the face of a lake
that is battered by frailty and fear.
Then spreading out her arms, resigned, she dives
and drowns in that chaotic lake, resolved
to give up life in order to live again;
and in her final thoughts she finds the deep
captivating, without captivity –
her bones become the treasures of the lake.
Oh let me melt in Spring and see again
your unreserved smile – a coat of sweet
nectar your finger brushed and counter-brushed
infinite times on my finite lips. So
in ignorant generosity you gave,
and I received with deliberate greed,
drowning every taste bud with that summer drink,
then sucking dry my lips, craving for more.
But now that you are departed, my tongue,
licking around my autumn lips, can taste
nothing but anesthetic bitterness.
Paralyzed between water and earth, I’ll
remain frozen in wintry sleep, until
my thirst is indulged by that fervent touch.