Andante
by
Brian Carey Chung
(from Balconies, The Return of Errant Desires
series)
The tiered rice paddies are
beautiful destruction—matured—
Grasses celiac roots—muscle of the earth,
yearning—.
The painted face of a sitar bulges
from a book in my periphery.
—o barren woman—felt and understood.
To
him who sips his gin in wavy linens
a sensation of ants.
A
roadside saint mirage. My
own
bottle
of wine and its trapped giggles
are the crooked vine and a country.
In this heat, Visiting Spirituality,
who can say where sensation begins
with its clumsy speech and bodily functions—
waste—I’d give anything
for a little company these long, luxurious days
