followed by

pelting hail

thunder crackles

the momentarily thacking sound

on my roof

already makes me feel

whether or not

my life is box-secured

I set the ten pieces of big mud by the three medium-sized sweet potatoes which earlier I had dug up from the mountain behind my house.  With those pieces of mud I built an upside-down cone with an open top and with hay and wood inside.  I lighted them with a match.  The fire instantly became alive now.  My furious eyes flickered at the fire until I spat at the cone.  Watching my spittle vaporize, I peeked in the fluttering fire, using the bamboo stick to spread evenly apart the burning hay and crackling wood, on one of its branches golden elongated sap sizzling feverously with ashes bouncing back and forth, some floating toward my face. 

On my haunches, with my shorts smirched, I picked up the sweet potatoes and laid them in the dying fire and then put more hay and wood to keep the fire going.  I watched the fire die, then shoved the piece of mud on top of the cone into the amber wood, then another.  Now the whole cone collapsed and I snatched a piece of rock smaller than my hands and lying near; beat the cone down to a little dome.  From my shorts pocket I took a green leave and laid it atop the dome; its torrid heat perforated the calm air.  

this chinese new year

my mother puts on

her twenty-year-old

pink sweatshirt and pants

but on me

not a single bright piece 

of garments 

falling off the dinner table

a chopstick

mother picks it up

saying:

      happy new year!      

All of a sudden the crack of light that had been slanting across the neck of the skeleton doll made Grandma’s watch flicker.  The flicker bounced around here and there on the ceiling.  The springs of her plushy bed squealed as her hand with the watch slashed the crack of light lying across her body.  I saw Grandma’s silhouette rise from her bed and walk over to my bed.  She, as always during midnight hours, turned me over so I could lie on my left side, my back to the window; and stuffed the pillow between my thighs and then turned on the nightlight by the desk.  Every night before bedtime she would switch on the nightlight.  But she had forgotten all about it until now.  When she went back to sleep, the nightlight, rising from the foot of my bed, made me feel like I was on the horizon.  Suddenly my myopic eyes shot at, opposite the window, the wall mirror reflecting the crepuscular skeleton doll appearing to swirl along with the wafting curtain.

on this chinese new year's evening

after showering

i wheel myself out the bathroom

a portable digital clock

falls from my leg

and scatters here and there

on the wood floor

three pieces of hard plastic 

before me

quickly i pick them up

and assemble them

now the clock still works

not a single scratch on it

as i put it in the aglow light

ha, i laugh

is this my bad luck year? 

“Get it tomorrow,” Mother said in the kitchen.

“Tomorrow is a good day to go up there,” her mother-in-law said.

Father remained quiet for some time, his eyes darting around the kitchen, and then said to Grandma: “I think Granduncle’s wife is still in up.”

“Tomorrow is a good day to go up there,” repeated Grandma.  

That night I could not sleep while lying in bed between Mother and Father, waiting for the sun to come out.  I finally fell asleep after the sun jabbed through the window, but Father woke me and said: “We need to go up there now.  Your mother and grandma are waiting for you.”

Soon as Father walked out of the room, I got up and dressed, then ran downstairs and saw Mother holding a bowl of uncooked chicken and Grandma a shallow wicker basket containing a bunch of incense sticks, a box of matches, and a big piece of cassava.  Together we strode to the watchtower and mounted the stairs to the fourth floor. 

The stool and lamp that had been there the day before now were gone.  “I put the lamp on the stool here yesterday, Ba,” I said, startled, and looked around the empty floor.  

Father did not say anything, nor did Mother and Grandma.  Mother laid the bowl of chicken down on the floor.  It was strange to see that frayed rope as it swayed above her.  Grandma lit the incense sticks and handed them to Father, who kneeled before the bowl of chicken and kowtowed, smoke weaving into his unkempt hair.  “Please forgive Jian.  He is only a child.  Please forgive him.” 

“Come over here and knee down. You hear?” Father said and handed me the incense sticks.

And I did as I was told, and with the sticks, I tremulously stabbed the piece of cassava Grandma had laid beside the chicken, which suddenly seemed to show some little bumps on its breast and wings.  After both Mother and Grandma had prostrated, I felt chilly, though the sun was out and gazing at our feet through the window, the floor warm and dry.  And when we descended the stairs I heard the same kind of stumping feet I had heard from yesterday and accompanied with our thudding feet.  But I didn’t tell my family about it, fearing that they might not believe me.  So I rushed down the stairs before they did. 

Soon as Father walked out of the room, I got up and dressed, then ran downstairs and saw Mother holding a bowl of uncooked chicken and Grandma a shallow wicker basket containing a bunch of incense sticks, a box of matches, and a big piece of cassava.  Together we strode to the watchtower and mounted the stairs to the fourth floor. 

The stool and lamp that had been there the day before now were gone.  “I put the lamp on the stool here yesterday, Ba,” I said, startled, and looked around the empty floor.  

Father did not say anything, nor did Mother and Grandma.  Mother laid the bowl of chicken down on the floor.  It was strange to see that frayed rope as it swayed above her.  Grandma lit the incense sticks and handed them to Father, who kneeled before the bowl of chicken and kowtowed, smoke weaving into his unkempt hair.  “Please forgive Jian.  He is only a child.  Please forgive him.” 

“Come over here and knee down. You hear?” Father said and handed me the incense sticks.

And I did as I was told, and with the sticks, I tremulously stabbed the piece of cassava Grandma had laid beside the chicken, which suddenly seemed to show some little bumps on its breast and wings.  After both Mother and Grandma had prostrated, I felt chilly, though the sun was out and gazing at our feet through the window, the floor warm and dry.  And when we descended the stairs I heard the same kind of stumping feet I had heard from yesterday and accompanied with our thudding feet.  But I didn’t tell my family about it, fearing that they might not believe me.  So I rushed down the stairs before they did. . 

no

it is still chinese new year!

grandma says

don't bring a walker over

just wait until chinese new year

is over

when? says her daughter on the other end of the line.

but you are having pain

in your leg

just wait til chinese new year

is over

has dad been helping you?

he cooks

but i have not asked him for help

when I need to go the bathroom

i crawl

since i can't walk

i bring the walker over

no, it is still chinese new year

ma! you need to see a doctor

it is still chinese new year!