Poem

Cleft

The steam from his jasmine tea
playing tai chi on the table
while he holds his head
in both hands, his memory
flows back to the first night
they became one stream:

She neared, wearing a red qipao
patterned with peonies. A tango
changed them into man and wife.
She murmured, "You love me?"
He smile, "You're a peony."
Their words slid over night.

Last night she discoed
with another man
in a nightclub while he
waited at the bus stop
thinking she'd come back
after a midnight shift.

He counted every coming bus
until the last one deserted
the street without her shadow.
When their love clashes
like chopsticks, waiting
is a cup of jasmine.