The Ancestors Speak

We are waiting for you, little one,

rag doll made of our skin, blood, hair,

and cotton thread spun eons ago.

We hang like bats in the eaves,

copulating with time, moving

to the passion of memory

and the rhythm of earthly longing

which we have left behind for you.

–excerpt from “The Ancestors Speak,” first published in Bloodroot and Imagination and Place: An Anthology. Translated into Chinese and published in New Poetry Appreciation.

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