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.

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