Pearl and Coral

Published in the printed Issue 56 of ‘Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine’

Pearl and Coral

 i  

For you, Vertical City, I headed East—  

chased dreams of a bustling metropolis  

that turned lead into gold,  

moulding my fantasies  

bigger than blocks flourishing  

through bauhinia leaves, papaya trees.  

I searched for the pearl,  

concealed in your harbour,  

slipped under  

the firm carpet of reclaimed lands,  

the asbestos roofs of shacks,  

or captured by the mouth  

of a golden dragon.  

In a Sham Shui Po shop,  

I was offered mother-of-pearl buttons  

for 5 dollars a pair.  

Their nacre iridescent, gleaming  

not formed layer upon layer  

within a soft body tissue,  

rather—in the inner lining  

of hard shells.  

ii  

For you, Motherland, I dreamed West.  

I collected postcards—  

their stamps, now yellow.  

And then screensavers,  

ritualistic fancies for coffee-breaks:  

illustrious ruins, 

muscular statues of naked gods,  

saints on whitewashed walls,  

Gothic pinnacles and Romanesque arches.    

I could smell pine trees,  

touch dolomite rocks.  

I could swim in turquoise seas  

but didn’t scout the rocky bottom,  

didn’t burrow through caverns and crevices  

300 meters below, to find your coral.  

I skimmed over the water  

wearing goggles.  

In the stalls near St. Mark’s Square,  

I was offered smooth glass beads  

for 5 Euros a string.  

Their lustre polished, in noble red,  

not coming from the calcified branches  of coral polyps,  

rather—mass produced  

in crowded factories.  

iii  

My City,  

my Motherland,  

with you in my heart,  

I feel like a hopeful bride  

wishing  

a pearl ring for engagement  

and coral earrings for the wedding day.