Photo: Ryan Kwok
a hospital bed steeped in
ammonia currents of
stale urine
a tube of canesten straddling
the commode atop
a stack of unused diapers
fruit flies metastasizing from
browning bananas to
a half-empty bottle of lactulose
a walker curled like oriental
calligraphy against the couch in
a living room unreachable as China
a parchment of dust covering
Mahjong tiles, precious as tiger
bones, portending your fate
ghosts keening behind
glass walls, guarded by Buddha and
a jade elephant
the communists who seized
your property, leaving behind
rations of rice and flour, and
a little red book, to feed
3 hungry mouths
tobacco-stained fingers moulding
pork and chive
dumplings pregnant as
unspoken words of love
Mihan Han was born in Mudanjiang, China. He currently resides in Toronto, Ontario. His poetry has previously been published in Ars Medica and Modern Haiku.
1 comment
Thank you for this clear, piercing poem. May you continue to create these indelible indeed searing images.