Dreaming of the Eighth Year

When someone with the authority

of a teacher, says describes the world and you are not it,

there is a moment of psychic disequilibrium,

as if you looked into a mirror and saw nothing.

Adrienne Rich

A choked essence rises,

blurring broken bits

on asphalt, next to tar-laced pebbles.

Closer

we see one's mouth, another's eyes,

a fingerprint

in once-polished angles,

wavering figures.

Each fragment examined,

rearranged

to be pieced together, made whole.

We try not to cut ourselves

on uneven edges.

A precarious touch.

Shards glisten

in the shadow of the jungle gym.

Copyright (C) 2000 by Shirley Ho

Copyright Frontiers Publishing, Inc. 2000
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved