SU HUT'S STAR GUAGE BY JANET E. AALFS

In empty rooms, I think only of the way


shared song can resound.


                               Su Hui, 4th century China




Here at the curve


a circle that does not close, words


from nothing.


Butterflies. A Compass.


I don’t know how


she finds me.




Moon on water following


           a single music


           radiant beauty for no one


stitched the temple pond


           so much gone 


           so far away




She sang, wept, pounded her fists,


sleeves and pillow tear-soaked.


Thousands of lyrics within one


lyric, forward back, Time


that overlaps, she spun.


Dragonflies. A prism.




Closer than thought


the end. She needs me


to remember


light on ripples whispering


a palindrome she sewed within


my shadow. I don’t know how




words from nothing begin.