Thursday, February 17, 2011

Wanted: A Guan Yin statue


Who does not spy for

the ancestors like

the Kitchen God

and who fills

the Mary-Pieta niche

in my psyche.


Wanted: A hard-working

goddess who’ll roll up

her silken sleeves,

shrug and forgive,

who’ll wear her heart

on her flowing sleeves.

Her face must blend

kind, tranquil and pretty

to seduce me into

unmasking my better self.


The statue stood in

a sculptor-owned store

in seaside Hoi An in a land

where Guan Yin rules.

A mermaid wisp of a girl

surrounded by deities

declared her brother had

carved it. She asked

where I had come from

before releasing a price.

Was her quote justice,

payback or both?

I only counter-bid

once under her

mahogany gaze.


Mao Tse-Tung excused

his war, “When the lips

are gone, the teeth

are cold.”

Bloody biting cold.

Nixon opposed

“the domino effect.”

Behind the gate,

he tilted the dominos

and loaded the die.


Guan Yin came home

shrouded in plastic

like a war bride.

After a week on Oklahoma’s

blowing umber plains,

she cracked down

her front in the dryness.

The finer the features,

the deeper the cleft.


Guan Yin is the goddess of mercy. She is a lesser Buddhist goddess and the only female in that pantheon.

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