Object Permanence II


A boat is there if you still believe in the ocean,

and a country remains if you lie still enough

to believe it. On the docks of Dandong,

a grandmother holds a bag of dumplings swimming

in soy sauce, fish moving blind through a

midnight current. She offers them to you,

insists, and you cup them within the pool

of your warm fingers. When the boat arrives

in New York, you unload yourself like

a misshapen syllable, tumble unheard through


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