by Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé
jalousie windows open
six months of chill as welcome
as five years, seven inflections
precise, scaled dots dropping off
and the rubbing out
of the fire in the hole
flailing legs like broken twigs
lost torso in grass –
his half-closed eyes are gasping
in the brush, faceless man down
canal, wash of red
three chase dreams, cartwheeling in –
hidden variable
this winter as cutting dry
From:
The Corner Club Press
Copyright ©:
Desmond Kon Zhicheng-Mingdé
Last updated September 14, 2011