John Fleming | + Follow Poet |
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The Village On the Water Iv

Thump-thump of stiffening fish contorting
   In the bilge beneath the gunwale; 
 Lidless, bulging, reddened eyes, swivelling upwards, 
Protruding horribly from the straining sockets,
    Express stupefied amazement at inconceivable 
  Abruptness  
   Of a former world pulled inside out. 
 The opening and shutting of mouths, almost as if 
Attempting to fashion words for the injustices of  
    Such a cruel, monstrous act,
  Desperately try to draw on that which can  
   No longer be found.
  
 Conscious of this agonized, suffocating death  
They endure we are prompted 
    To seek endorsement from Gonggong...
  Lest we should suffer his violent and 
   Destructive displeasure.
 Soon the nameless thing that comes to strangle
All living things 
    Will come searching for our breath also...
  But not this day. Today, to satisfy urgent needs...
   These fish are compelled to give up on theirs.

 Choruses of bird song. And orioles serenade 
Returning wupengs.
    "Tie up your boats", the birds sing, "we will 
  Watch 
   Over your mornings catch"...they too are 
 Alert to the shaded heron.
An extending, accentuated, placing of the feet; 
    Huddled and wrapped in obsequious and 
  Divine inscrutability; 
   Ever vigilant -- ever cautious;
 Stalks with painstaking deliberation of a 
Creeping Snow Leopard;
    Headband more blacker than Summer's
  Thundering clouds; 
   In the narrowing slit of the pupil -- an intense, 
 Glittering!
Pitiless as a murderous assassin that steals 
    Through the treacherous murk of unlit nights.

  But we know his artful ways...and stow away 
   The hard-earned prize.

 Now we will sit cross legged and eat 
Hot-dry noodles, steamed wuchang and pork-rib 
    Soup with lotus root;
  And, raising smooth, round, porcelain drinking 
   Cups, decorated with brightly fired colours, 
 To our salty lips, sip sweetened green-tea 
Made with water from the blessed Toad Hole;                    
    After having drank of these sublime waters,  
  Lu Yu left letters...
   And declared it --
 "The Fourth Spring Under Heaven!"

My wife, shuffling about the floor as a timid,
    Padded quail, 
  Sighing absently in that abstract manner, softly 
   Chiding and scolding unto herself...
 She has a secret she has not yet disclosed of me.
It will be a boy...the priest in the orange robe 
    Foretold of this.
  The boy shall fulfil his earthly duty to his
   Heavenly ancestors as I have done...
 And as all those who have come before me
Have so done;
    Fathering children is an honourable duty...
  And must, therefore, be considered higher 
   Than mere obligation.
 She will tell me when she is ready to tell me...
The only permitted privilege for a female.
    I am well acquainted with the rules of the
  Game...having played this game before.

   Then, nonchalant evening arriving as if it were
 Just another slowed dawning.
Clearing skies submerge into the hesitant gloom  
    Gathering beneath fading, drowsy purple hills.
  The lapping waters gentle swell, and sleep has 
   Crept upon a woman's shallow heaving breast. 
 Groaning wupengs buoy upwards; secured ropes 
Tightening against creaking moorings:-
    Old, gnarly, bleached planks which have the 
  Authentic stamp of a great comforting familiarity  
   Residing within them.
 Flurrying snow, caught in the glare of
Sputtering lanthorns, 
    Falls silently over deserted verandas;
  A fragile sun...finally relinquishes...
   Collapses down... 
 Sinks into the bottomless depths of endless 
Green forests.
    That immense Autumn Moon...
  As big as an island alone and adrift in a 
   Disconsolate sea!

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Elaine George Date: 1/10/2021 5:25:00 AM On to V. mesmerizing. ~ Elaine Login to Reply