Floating House
The weight of empires
Couldn’t be masked—
Sequoian robes and a
Transplanted past.
A regal visage shone yet more:
High cheekbones,
Courtly eyes,
Whence a kingdom of yore.
She sayeth unto me:
“I am the tea tree spirit,
Grown from a mangrove bar,
The earth of Nui Sam, Our Mother,
Yan Po Nagar.”
Comments
Post a Comment