| mother says: fan1 lei4 |  |
| poet says: behave | |
| mother says: seng1 sin3 |  |
| poet says: moonbeam | |
| mother says: separation of voice | |
| poet says: behave, moonbeam | |
| mother says: the way you ask the moon to behave is transgressive, not Chinese | |
| poet says: my voice is a splinter | |
| Tin1 hei 3 |  |
| these days | |
| I can only speak about the weather | |
| with a tongue splitting | |
| spitting monosyllabic blue or grey | |
| but did you know | |
| I’ve discovered a secret | |
| that half of my words | |
| have been kept | |
| like a key | |
| under a plant which my mother | |
| waters daily | |
| and is something that grows | |
| those beautiful ghosts | |
| they seem to say: | |
| jing6 dak1 nei 5 |  |