
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.