Together

In 1986 my father and mother

took a photo at Yellow Crane Tower

Hard to imagine, this turns out to be the

only existing photo of them together

After my mother passed away, my father dug it out

After my father passed away, we dug it out

intending to put it up on the tombstone for both of them

We set about the ritual from last Tomb-Sweeping Day

but according to the hometown tradition

the whole process would not end until three years later

Now each time I go back to visit my hometown

I persuade my mother, in front of her tomb, to be patient

Then I ask my father, in front of his tomb, not to worry

Every time I examine the photo

I feel an invisible ruler

measuring the distance between them in life

after their passing, and

between them and me

The desire to be together has never been so intense

Only to Continue to Write

When a book is almost over

is when you feel the most pain

A book

has its own main character

The character is dying but you

want the character to live longer

I am writing about

this particular moment

A year has gone by

Should I just let the book end in this manner

Almost every night I dream of

myself struggling

I want the end to come but I also do not want

to hopelessly fall into the cliched pattern

Last night was the most gruesome

one night’s sleep cut into four naps

Each time I woke up

I felt like

the hour hand stuck inside a watch

while the second hand was babbling

it responded only after a long while

At daybreak I promised myself

this definitely will be

the last day, definitely a happy one