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.
