MAYDAY

MOONLIGHT 月光 by Xiao Qiao (translated by Cindy M. Carter)

Contributed By: , ,

The moonlight at my door is white.
It flashes by like weaponry.

A shattered scenery resolves
into sweet and sharpened
drops of candy.

Bit by bit, they prick
the slightly-slanted corners
of your eyes.

35 – Guangzho (1995) photograph by Han Lei

我门前的月光很白
像某种兵器一闪而过
破碎的景象慢慢坚实
变成甜蜜的有点尖锐的球形糖果
一颗一颗
刺穿你微微倾斜的眼角

Return to table of contents for Issue 2 Winter 2010

Further Reading

Graffiti at a Medieval Manor House Ruin in Oxfordshire
by Stephen Gibson

There were graffiti, initials, dates carved everywhere, much of it around doorjambs which had no doors; much also around window frames where the air just passed through—there was no more glass, not even shards, anywhere.   Alice S. and Robert W. visited before the Great War. They carved their initials, in 1912, with great care. […]

UNTITLED a series of prose poems by Antara Datta

Window She came to live with us when I was 12. She would sit at the window with a toothless smile, wrapped in white with breasts that needed no cover or holding up, eyes layered with years, looking at the road outside, longing for home. Perhaps. Big mother. Old mother. Grand mother. She left me […]