Gift Giving

      

By Changming Yuan

Neo-Matrilinealism   [Given the highest power The greatest gift to give life Like the Creator Himself, women will be better Care takers of all human societies as they once were Since they neither corrupt absolutely Nor really enjoy seeing blood-shedding besides Their own. Is this just wishful or Rational thinking? Or]   Can this conceit be transplanted at least into  A poem if not practice at all? Calculating for Redemption     While counting what I really possess, I ruled Out my car & house first, for they could be Lost or destroyed anytime; then I excluded Money & fame, which would have nothing To do with me after my death; finally I Dis-counted my wife & even my offspring As the latter are totally independent Human beings, while the former can readily Marry another man. As for the poems I have written, or the books I have published They would vanish even before my name Could be connected to my life story. Yes, I do Have some memories, yet they will become Downloadable & subject to random edits By a stranger, a robot or a godling. In other Words, what is really left is only, nothing but Only the thought that is bubbling in The quagmire of my mind at this antlike Moment, which is being sucked into a black Hole in the mind. What else do I really have Except this gift from above, from afar? Estrangement, Giving   Being myself differs from being a man A glare sound never echoes beyond the mountain   I have kept shedding blood since I was a teenager Just to give or not to give birth (to a father   Though I can do so without a boy’s contribution)   There are countless attempts to penetrate my heart & body if lust is not a loss or legacy of love   The femininity in my brain has a tenderer structure & texture as I often fumble for the hidden key   To your patriarchy, to your potency in darkness In darkness, my Lord, I defy Adam’s manhood   Wooing: Gift for Huahua   One bouquet                   After another He keeps sending her Red      red       roses                          Newly plucked From among words, English Or Chinese, besides emojis Pictures,              all grown In his innermost garden   While she continues Refusing to accept Anything         with or Without a shape Over & over                again Until his heart   finally Becomes withered & more            withered Into a blood-bold rose Sadly stuffed Gift Shoes from Li Lan   I believe the pair of shoes you sent me as a Birthday gift is made of genuine leather, but It needs a pair of socks & even a pair of Trousers made of natural, not artificial wool To go with it, which in turn requires an Equally authentic leather belt to tie my No less faithful lower body, including my Penis that has become softened with age As with my mind & heart, but despite all My bona fides, my upper body is clothed With manmade or fake fibres, especially My face masks, or faces per se, not only to Protect me against covid-19, 22, or anything Else like that, but to cover my mouth & nose in case I should inhale false air & spit out some hardened spittle of truth About life, about the real world. Indeed   I am never sure if that’s your original in- Tention, but I do like whatever is actually Genuine, real, true, natural or authentic While I keep walking along, or alone Returning to Hometown: for Qi Hong   1/ Jinzhou, October 7: an Episodic Sonnet   After celebrating your father’s birthday, you Went out of your way to see my mother in Jinzhou as my shadow wife, rather than in Any other dubious capacity. Though you Stayed there for 15 minutes only, you left a Handsome red envelope containing all the Filialness of a Confucian son on my behalf Indeed, I may not survive the Pandemic, nor   Might she hold long enough for me to cross The Pacific again, but your ad hoc visit gave Her the best comfort from a daughter-in-law Yes, she felt sorry she did not take a photo with   You, but I assured her to commemorate the Meeting in a foreign language as she wished   2/ Zhuhai, October 8: a Lover’s Stone   No, no, no, you should not have had a thief’s Conscience when you went to see my mother On my behalf, for a heart-stealer is no thief In the first place                           As for the gift of a big stamp Jade, it was given not to you alone, but to both Of us, which you can cut into two, one to Carve into an artist’s seal for you, the other A poet’s signature for me. More important From the same piece of jade, they can produce     Gold-like artworks, if used together Like a philosopher’s stone   Yuan Changming grew up in an isolated village, started to learn the English alphabet in Shanghai at age nineteen, and published monographs on translation before leaving China. With a Canadian PhD in English, Yuan currently edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver. Credits include eleven Pushcart nominations, eleven chapbooks (most recently LIMERENCE) as well as appearances in the Best of Best Canadian Poetry & BestNewPoemsOnline, among 1879 other literary outlets across 46 countries. In March 2021, Yuan served on the jury for Canada's 44th National Magazine Awards (poetry category). Lotus Image & License: Depositphotos_3273810