Li Hua's Messenger

In a hut far from the village

Li Hua bends over his canvas

like an insect.

He is so deliberate,

each stroke is a spider's legs

fighting the current.

There is a war in his veins,

a battle of desires.

He is jealous of Li Po

whose pictures glide

like the moon over dark water.

I do not wish

to disturb him

as he tries to make art

in this time of death,

so I will wait,

like a fly on the tip of a stick,

until he is finished.