[1]

Stilt walkers in the shadow Of a skull, a white domed mountain.

I look up and see their dragon faces, I look down and see you, in the trampled snow.

[2]

On the weathered jamb of the school door This sign, “We will learn for the revolution”.

A line of children, grin at the camera’s eye. Who are the hard jawed revolutionaries here?

[3]

Winter pasture has turned into spring, A line of yaks, tolling bells, graze.

A shepherd girl with green eyes becomes, A pink tulip in a field of yellow mustard.

[4]

The penitent on horseback ride into A storm, a fortress, a pedestal, an oblivion.

Even though the Revolutionary Army peed in it, the Potala beckons: a mirage, a nirvana.