I will go to my mother's house.
A white-haired woman will open the door.
She will hesitate, wait until a light
Will light her face.
Am I her sister? Her mother? Her daughter?
She will know I am someone close.
She will know I have been there before.
The night opens the pillow book
and shows us
In stages of dress and undress
our genitals seem to grow
out of proportion.
Flute of jade, moonflower
The lucky numbers
Three irises in the blue and white
bowl in spring, chrysanthemum [...]