Mount Davis--Hong Kong
Mount Davis Road
The driveway winds uphill, our taxi brushes
against heart-shaped leaves wrapped with vines,
into a clearing. The relics of last year's typhoon
remain, tower blocks absent of voices.
Through an open window, two plastic covered chairs
sit side by side, in expectation. A scrap of newspaper
rolls across the floor. In the corner, the Kitchen God
still hovers leaning forward from the altar. My mother
stands on a slab of patio, searches for Lantau invisible
behind trees strangled in ivies. The family villa
plowed under, replaced by abandoned buildings.
She wipes her eyes, snaps her purse shut, clamps lids.
She imagines Ah San running across a floo
so polished that two amahs run forward -
one right side up, one upside down.
Children run in amah's shadow, laughing.
She opens her eyes-This was my dream world
now just a dream-her lips seal the past.
Once upon a time, my brother carried me
across the verandah to look upon the sea.
Annie Bien
Posted over on Flutter Poetry Journal
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