Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2016 | Page 55

Tai-verberations  creep by our feet—then move on.     III. Water calligraphy    A sandstone slab,   some trickling water,   a brush for two.      Six characters   we wrote—  not knowing why  lay side-by-side.     Evening strips away  another afternoon.      You turn,   I set the brush to rest,  and our characters   harden back to stone.      IV. Walking through Chia Nan University   Now all the mirroring waters    above Chia Nan   turn milky dark  and yet I see you    beautifully empty   like plum blossoms colored by the moon.      You know that mirror flowers never bloom—  but softly knock on my door  and I promise to reply.      43