In the new land
we stray souls go wandering
looking for a likely friend
amidst pale trees that taught us to speak
that teach us still to speak
in words our parents cannot understand
we wander further still
we cannot see the sky anymore
not the stars for navigation
not the moon for time
not the clouds for drink
there is no night
only the constant gloam
of the heart
of the pale forest
and the cries of birds from stories
that are not our own.
but now and then
there is a glimpse of a silver something
brighter than the white arms that hold the sky
and suddenly
on our lips
almost forgotten
a trace of lotus nut
sweet
of duck yolk
of fat
grainy
and thick
on the tongue.
