Chris Zijiang Song
Two Poems Translated from the Chinese by Lucas Klein
Pomegranate
how many flames wrapped in this
riddle? tongue drunk in
agate flesh, each and every
one a bitterness in white crystal
seeking your deep-seated
seeds. you give me drops of sweet
and leave unripe slices
will all a face’s patience be kissed up
by a to-and-fro tongue tip? I remember
you as a literature lover, blushing
like a bud’s first burst, ripening at
changing seasons, uninterruptible
by worry, each tight
against each, piled up
pent up veins, who says calm
isn’t a seclusion, inducing
your flames? at times
reality is like a storm, branches
smacking anxious windows, an unirritated
you always under silent
lights quietly counting out
each day, my patience
time and again resolving
the riddle of your flame
Remembering Too Much
—for my grandmother, who had Alzheimer’s
from the sickbed you stretch out wizened fingers
to grab my hand, and say
you’ve become a decayed old branch
even if you finished this glass of water
you wouldn’t remember who I was
yet an instant later you say my name
again and again I have walked out of
and into the outer edge of your memories
where you found the childhood me
and carried him
meandering through the market by now in disarray
restoring the storefront sandbank to its old disorder
I watch the water drops meander down the outer edge of the glass
annoyed you remember so much
you release my hand
and reach for the glass
its handle an entangled vine
the back of your hand as chapped as bark
all women are made of water
I remember you said once