Ceiba

Melton metal-loneliness,

Poured into the mold.

Land and dwellings vast and far,

Like a giant chamber of the heart.

Those migrating along the rails,

Sought after blood.

Occasionally they dreamt – afar:

Reddish homeland, where reddish parents stood.

The focus of the camera tear blurred.

The town of silhouette, the only thing seen:

The late grandma no longer knew

Dropped

Yet another tooth

In her photo

In to the palm. A pomegranate.

In scarlet new year

She used to bath ample chilis,

Under the tenuous sun.

Firecrackers grew out of the land,

Loaded into the trunk

Traveled through the artery road

Into stomachs hundreds of miles far

Waves of crimson thunders

– Fires ruminated

On those typhoon days, they awakened,

Still hunting worn-out photos, worn-out gustation,

And the worn-out family cross.

How to inherit

The stale red candles

On the little wooden prie-dieu?

– Those who left home,

Turned over their keys

To me.

2022.3.19