You sort the tin paintings
and lay your favorite in my lap.
Then you stroke my bare feet
as I lean against a tombstone.
It's time to cross the border
and cut your throat with two knives:
your wife, your son.
I won't try to stop you.
A cow with a mouth at both ends
chews hell going and coming.
I never asked less.
You, me, these withered flowers,
so many hearts tied in a knot,
given and taken away.
From The Collected Poems of Ai. Copyright © 2010 by Ai. Used with the permission of W.W. Norton & Company Ltd.
Ai was the author of several books of poetry, including Vice: New and Selected Poems (W. W. Norton, 1999), which won the National Book Award for Poetry.
Date Published: 2018-10-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/guadalajara-cemetery