new zealand electronic poetry centre

 

Yang Lian


online works

 

THE STREET I SEE FROM MY WINDOW


on the street I see from my window it never rains
it lies by my windowsill
composed and calm as a comb
waiting    for a silent woman
flying in from shore like a tired seagull
hands hugging herself as tight as a pebble
on her back    in a furry grey satchel
a lemon quietly changing shape

the street I see from my window is white with snow
all winter    on the street only
seven stray cats and a man sleeping in an abandoned car
or eight identical pairs of eyes
empty husks, utterly free of resentment
so affectionate I am convinced
they have promised to feed each other with their corpses
and, like a guarantee    the gentlest of touching

 

Yang Lian


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Last updated 13 October, 2001