A croak of a bullfrog as it leaves the bullfrog.
Planted feet
stagger
as gibbus elders
shaken to their roots like wind-pierced lotuses
bow
at the waning moon.
Village sleet melting,
kids and dogs flood from their huts.
Cooped up ‘til dawn,
stooped Masters squat in a pasture
well plowed. Steam rising,
ch'i withered,
Daoists with horned toads in their hair
cry twice then silence.
“Luang Prabang” 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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