lotus balcony

translated by PLS

rooms entwined with rooms like horizontally grown lotus nodes

windows and doors shut, pores filled with secrets

the shop owner holds the seedpod with a hairy hand

saying: “a lotus seed represents

a character, while a petal makes

a whole costume.”

you pay for three desiccated seeds, three

wilted fading petals, watching her

weave out a broken bridge and lingering snow

the air here is full of humidity, the oil scented sweetness

reminds you of lotus cakes.

you are taken to a room further back as she

says “it’s on”, the costume snarls up

on your chest

first play the role of a water strider and its hydrophobicity

you skate across the water in the tub

trying to show your love with ripples

someone plays the role of a mosquito larvae

and is almost engulfed by you.

then a shift of scene, you feel cheap

fragrances surrounding you, letting out a sneeze 

the second character is a dragonfly magician

you are actually between dining table 

and the chandelier, the atmospheric pressure forces you

to flow low, forcing you

to evoke childhood in vain but successfully 

evoke rain, you sneak under the table

to avoid the rain. yet unable to bypass

the last act, the overlord of the pond

the makeup stings your skin like scales

you turn around, adjusting to the temperature of

the water in summer, brand new gills and fins

a sharp bone spur exploding inside the body

the shop owner comes to kill the fish with a knife

you try to escape, swimming at full speed, self

lubricating with all your might, eventually stranded

at the lotus balcony, among the fish’s remains.