with the rattle of time how it flexes my neck stretches the spine
when the alarm snoozes every morning my sincerity dies graceless
lukewarm deaths last night in Honk Kong a million protesters
lined up the streets then receded like a wave to make way
for an ambulance in this gorge of bodies spare a thought
for the patient inside who splintered humanity unwittingly
into magnanimity if I could eat such ethos with my bare
hands I would be filled with oxygen for days hunger
like desire leaves you parched for the way it emasculates then insulates
where’s the time for tutelage I attribute this suddenness of flood
to an ingredient in blood called rage oh the urge to lash out demands
veins whipping malice of the tempting second into beads of sweat
the next minute to summon gratitude you need some tricks up
your sleeve I carry grief in self-made sacks attached to the backs
of my ears coiled gardens I water time to time wrap around bones
threads of devotion I tied around trees in temples knots holding me
from coming apart on a dais months ago when asked to speak
in my mother tongue I couldn’t string together a good sentence
later that night I scraped dictionaries until my fingers bore letters
even then I called my mother but couldn’t find the words for thank you
these blurs of language they tumble out a slit thud of ripe mangoes
on the ground faces birthed from a glorious tangle of fates
the planet cocoons a larva while spinning on its axis I recognize
the mechanics of rotation to rejuvenate I go around anticlockwise