Pink
In China I remembered you only once:
the restaurant's speciality, chosen
from a braid of live varieties,
spiraled to the floor while the waiter
flayed it with a knife flicked
from his wrist. The snake made your initial
over and over the black tile.
What pain? Love's all touch
was the ideogram it made as it crossed
the hot stones to the table.
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Author's Note
I wrote this after my husband returned from a gig as assistant director working with Lindsay Anderson who directed a movie about the first rock and roll band to visit China--WHAM, in fact. Then I waited nearly six years to figure out what the last line was.
Originally published in THE NEW YORKER, October 30, 1989.
Other stories by Terese Svoboda
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Ouch!
Very good!!!!!!!!
I'm glad you found the last line. This is a stunning poem. The motion here is very powerful. Wonderful.
Fabulous poem
Great imagery, this.
Great, great poem. Just beautiful.
You give just enough, and then back off. You let us do some work. This, for me, is the embodiment of what is fun about good poetry.
Love the sparseness of this piece, so I gree with Katrina. great word choices and a beautiful tone. Well done.
"what is fun about good poetry."
Fun?! I've got a skinless snake slithering around in my mind!
Nobody's hungry?
Taste like chicken?
t: worth the wait.
let's eat
Bam!What a gift. Loved this so very much. Like a perfectly rendered brushstroke on rice paper.
So much is said here in just a few lines. The title is especially striking to me and "love's all touch"
Great poem. I can't do the math to figure if Lindsay Anderson could have seen it but I'm sure he would have liked it. Who wouldn't? It writhes.
Wow, this is beautiful...