A qipao in hundreds-old wardrobe,
Phoenix sacrifices in bleeding fest,
If we ever used it to test Men’s
fidelity like Taishanese matriarch did,
Up-lifting the damsel in seamstress,
Carmine threads of pins and needles; unifying
the erected shrub, to be Frangipani’s groom.
Walking pavement
If ever your nostril responded
To the wanderlust
Hush! Speak not a word.
Pretend you’re illiterate
‘til it’s gone
It happens at the
Pungent sub-station –
Groom’s farming maggots
Boys & girls made of recycled fibers
Face-painting cheap-diluted colors
Talisman, Shamans, please go away
Little Frangy wants to play
“Frangipani” was printed in Ditch'em, No. 7 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
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