Butterfly in Beijing

Off-white walls washed 
Red—and I saw him, blasting away
His own pulse of wrath as he pressed hard
Against the cold steel, leaving 
Metallic hate embedded deep 
In the cold corpses. (Their brows brushed 
And arched—full of surprises they were, their mouths 
O-shaped—their shriek hollowed and seized.)

Thud.

Was it symbolic? 
Did the media influence him? 
Was he brought up wrong? 
Did he have a bad day—
Or was it his bad coffee? 
Under the afternoon sun, I sat and asked 
Questions. A few minutes later, 
I wondered what would happen next.

Dale Chou
2002-10-26