The fast

Still, 
Her vast figure

Fed with spoons and knives: 
I fell sick as this family gorged itself 
In the murk (and her intense glare 
Never seized). Together, under one 
Enormous bowl of ailing-white rice
The lanterns of fiery impatience 
Were lit—once, twice—I still managed 
To walk

Against the wind. It started
Last Monday (but not really, 
I took little bites late at 
Night)—to be.

Dale Chou
2003-01-16