The Universe where Hou Yi Shoots the Final Sun

                   for Chang’e

We saw

the mountains

first, clouding our

last words with a

double breeze.

Beside

us, farmers

harvesting wheat

and grain, reaped the

hours that passed

without hearing

their wives’

laughter.

No, my dear,

I do not blame you

for falling skies, for

all the minutes

measured

in lifetimes

halved like crescent

moons. I only wish we

could unbow an arrow,

wash the morning

jade with

touch. To

have touch at all

tomorrow. Once, we

knelt before the day

and usurped the

sun’s

throne.

Before our life

appeared in bursts. In

flashes. The seconds

before the final

star was

speared

in half. Yes, my

dear, you did not mean

for us to end, did not

mean to be the

marksman

of my heart.

Whatever happens,

I know this to be true:

my last eight minutes

were well spent

with you.

So hold

this candle, let the

world dim, ebb. Then

swallow the pill, follow

me down this rabbit

hole. Dear,

let us toast

to memory, to our

new life on the moon,

to our love that lives

on even after death

does us part.

“The Universe where Hou Yi Shoots the Final Sun” was awarded the 2024 Martin Starkie Prize, judged by Mary Jean Chan.