Sixth Month
Zhou Mengdie

Suddenly I wake up
to the sound of a rain of blossoms in profusion,
pounding till my shadow’s soaked!
Is it a dream? Real?
Facing tonight: an upside-down
boat under a coral reef.

How much endurance will turn my bones
to an indestructible Relic? Buddha,
your heart is radiant, but the Sixth Month’s heart is warm—
how many Sixth Months will I have?
Where can I park my perseverance?
Between you and the Sixth Month.

They say snakes’ veins are ageless!
Even if you worked the metal of eternal night
into autumn, into winter;
even if darkness gouged out its own eyes…
the snake would know: from under the water
he could still cry tidings of fire.

Death whirled, dancing on my palm
till she fell, dropped like a meteor.
I want to turn around, pick her up, and put her back
but—rainbow broken, red clouds flown—
she’s already become
a profusion of butterflies.