The end of Tiger, start of Hare.
Must lug the metal buckets there
to burn the red-inked bamboo sheets
and bless the needful ancestors.
Must lug the metal buckets there
and set them down on level ground
to bless the needful ancestors
with flames lit at a lucky hour.
To set them down on level ground,
these canisters with silver lids.
For flames, await the lucky hour
that custom and the augur said.
These canisters with silver lids
to slide aside at just the time
that custom and the augur said
is best to satisfy the dead.
To slide aside at just the time
that bundles of the paper squares—
the best, to satisfy the dead—
will burn like heck and blaze like gold.
The bundles of these paper squares
once scorched and crisp, the flakes are sure
to burn like heck and blaze like gold
in tufts of air above the flames.
Once scorched and crisp, the flakes are sure
to blow about the tiled yard
from tufts of air above the flames
that toss and tug the thickish smoke.
The breeze about the tiled yard
will prompt the crowd to dodge the scraps
tossed and tugged by thickish smoke
while they pursue their private rites.
It prompts the crowd to dodge the scraps
as best they can, their minds adrift
while they pursue their private rites
as Tiger ends and Rabbit starts.
is a non-profit administrator living in Taichung, Taiwan. He's the author of the chapbook These Unblessed Days (Kelsay Books, 2022), and his recent poems have appeared in THINK, Alabama Literary Review, Honest Ulsterman, Blue Unicorn, and The Literary Hatchet, among other journals.
