Zipper along the spine/ The clavicle
as thick as a finger/ If there is any
happiness/ it smells like her wet hair/
She smiles through the dim glow of
the dying sun/ through the scent of
jasmine/ through the taste of buckthorn
tea/ poured in the finest china/ at half
past two/ She laughs lyrically/ like one
of the artist’s best paintings/ Inimitable as
a magnolia flower/ left by a passerby at
the cold marble steps of the temple/ at
dawn/ A replica of the masterpiece
that makes everyone tremble in awe/
with their mouths open/ even death/
Eaten out with jealousy and envy/
I stare at her/ frightened to the End/
There are no golden days for those
who run/ she smiles to me heartily/
I am not a human/ I am the Universe/
she says/ and my clones are halfway here/
I have seen Her in every copy of the eternal
Universe/ not aging/ not changing/ not dying/
To fate/ all my symphonies are empty sounds/
I would not advise anyone to look deeper/
I am not a human/ she says/ I am the scam
of the times/ But who then are you?