If I Close My Eyes I See White Gibbons
So now I'm a human being in the 21st century:
a strange, wild animal in a three-piece suit.
When I was home we discussed Genghis Khan over wine,
how he couldn't give up women even for the monk
whose eyes were pink as the white rabbit's pounding
elixirs of life on the face of the moon.
Part of me remembers water and green growing things.
A shine on the pond where, wet with darkness, caimans slink,
as illiterate as a stone we glided down, hand
over hand, through a history of leaves.
Still now and again you catch it staring upward:
your gibbon-soul, grown tired of time.
Ready to ascend on the directest road it knows:
to drop the ground like a bad idea.
B.T. Joy is a British poet, short fiction writer and educator who is currently teaching English at high school level in Heilongjiang, China. His poetry and prose has appeared in journals, magazines, anthologies, and podcasts worldwide including Uut Poetry, Yuan Yang, The Meadow, Toasted Cheese, Presence, Paper Wasp, Bottle Rockets, Mu, Frogpond, and The Newtowner, among many others. He can be contacted through his website, B.T. Joy Poetry Online (http://btj0005uk.wix.com/btjoypoet) and he regurlarly posts both poetry and visual artwork on his tumblr blog, Turning To Visuals (http://btj0005uk.tumblr.com/)