Rice Field by Aiden Heung

Rice Field

Afternoon, the sun sits

on her shoulder; and the smell

of something primeval comes

like a sudden memory of the sea.

I see her

sitting in her wicker chair

and talking to the air.

For those who understand her,

she means laundry and soap.

For me, every syllable

is a continent, a virgin geography.

I come closer ready to by-pass

her as I usually do,

she looks up to me,

her face,

the rice field at the foot

of a snow-capped mountain.

Aiden Heung

Aiden Heung is a Chinese poet born and raised on the edge of the Tibetan Plateau. He writes about his personal past in a Tibetan Autonomous Town and the city of Shanghai where he currently lives. Other themes include ancestry, nature-human relations, queer culture, the dehumanizing force of the city, politics, and his imaginary wonderland. His words appeared recently in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, Poet Lore, Hobart, Parentheses, Barren Magazine, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, Potomac Review, among other places. He is a reader of world literature. He can be found on twitter @AidenHeung. Visit his website for more information: www.aidenheung.com

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