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Each day many fall,
Them hardened furry balls.
And oh how they call
Perched on the coconut tree sturdy and tall
Nothing but ‘em coconuts on a dead-end street
With their half-formed wobbly meat
Them coconuts that leave
Me bitter from the sweet.
The tears of the coconut you see
Fall for ideas that never come to be
Dangling fibers from the tree
Bear witness to my priceless fee.
I count them coconuts on a dead-end street,
Each one rotten and each one sweet.
One rumbled of the thunder the night two hearts met
One caught all my laughter in its fibrous net.
O coconuts of the dead-end street
O coconuts rotten and sweet
O coconuts when they fall
Splatter into wounds bloody and raw
O coconuts of abundance
O coconuts of remembrance
Them coconuts, how they count how they
Count your absence
Copyright © Christy Chiang