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From Liang Yue Xian: Run
Sometimes life
narrows down
to this
a path
cut shoulder-wide
into grass
two feet
that run
between the
rubber trees
on this
five acres

梁月仙
you hold
your name
and run
four a.m.
every morning
that doesn’t
bring rain
will bring
rubber

that slow
white weeping
of trees
from sharp-cut
vees into
cups which
you empty

after China
this, Kuching—
the coffeeshop
bankrupt, the
strange woman

standing beside
your father
your mother’s
white-hot anger
bubbling into
sickness and
burial

here between
the trees
the running
is easy
only the
bucket grows
heavy with
latex and
counting
a cup
of white
latex for
a cup
of white
rice, some
kerosene, coffee,
cooking fat,
salt and
school fees
this path
is narrow
cut shoulder-wide
into grass
already the
heat which
dries liquid
latex to
leathery hardness
and cracks
rubber seed
into sharp
detonation
is rising
you have
two feet
so run