Poem of the Week

After you’ve gone don’t go, don’t
After you’ve come don’t come, don’t

When you depart, they close your eyes, put your hands together
    and cry don’t go, don’t go
But when you say open the door, open the door, they say don’t
      come, don’t come

They glue a paper doll onto a bamboo stick and say don’t come,
      don’t come
They throw your clothes into the fire and say don’t come, don’t
        come

That’s why you’re footless
wingless

yet all you do is fly
unable to land

You’re visible even when you hide
You know everything even without a brain

You feel so cold
even without a body

That’s why this morning the nightgown hiding under the bed
is sobbing quietly to itself

Water collects in your coffin
You’ve already left the coffin

Your head’s imprint on the moon pillow
Your body’s imprint on the cloud blanket

So after you’ve gone don’t go, don’t
So after you’ve come don’t come, don’t