Changming Yuan

Golden teeth glistening
In the mouth of the city
Silver clouds colliding
At the tongue tip of day
Bite off all darkness

They whispers;
And chew the light well.
On the Recycling Day: Wall Street
One neighbor took out a blue box
Full of cat skulls and dog legs
Rather than glass or plastic bottles
Another carries out a yellow bag
Containing human bones, mostly children’s
Instead of magazines or paper products
A third pushed out a green bin
Filled with failed evils and devils
Where there should be leaves and twigs
Behind every house in a neighboring back alley
The garbage truck is placing a big time bomb
Changming Yuan, who grew up in rural China, is a four-time Pushcart nominee and the author of Allen Qing Yuan. He holds a PhD in English and currently tutors in Vancouver; his poetry appears in nearly 590 literary publications across 22 countries, including Asia Literary Review, Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Exquisite Corpse, London Magazine, Paris/Atlantic, Poetry Kanto, SAND and Taj Mahal Review.

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