The moon falls
into your chest
my heart glows in the dark
we are no longer hungry ghosts
I find a moon in the rice cake
they want us to swallow it whole
and become a midnight sun
The moon falls
and we didn’t catch it last night
our limbs—ghostly
my hips are chained to my great
grandfather’s graveyard
our knees dissolve in the burial dirt
The moon falls
only in autumnal equinox
we kiss the aroma of high mountain
tea, watching maidens
pluck the tea leaves in rain
their bosom stain the tea crimson
The moon falls
and Emperor star rises
we hang red lanterns around our ears
so the blind spirits can whisper the
secret of reincarnation
then we guide them home
