(La Vista, November 2020)

Diesel, dogs, and salt fish in winter sun.
‘I’m home now,’ he cries. To claim the rattan chair
Beneath the woodsmoke and spreading banyan,
The drifting Cantonese voices. Home and here.
Tipping San Miguel to the Queen of Heaven.

Yellowcress, sorrel and sandalwood trees
Hide the half-forgotten villa. But it’s there,
Behind the leaves and the stirring in the leaves,
The rusting gate, the antique fountain, where
Laughter and Chinese privet are carried on the breeze,

As footsteps quicken on the stairs, the door ajar.
‘I lived for such,’ says he, ‘when the bow riders left me
Upon Macau Roads and all our vanquished armada.’
At peace now is the tumult of a life upon the sea.
Becalmed are the eyes of a voyager.

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Aidyn F

They Them | Nonbinary | Catholic | Seeker of Dharma | Student of the Tao | Hong Kong