Jiāngsū, Early Summer

He takes me, his adult child swaddled in foreignness, to the southern provinces.

Opaque scenes unfold, here among people with whom I once belonged.

We walk streets lined with vendors and dappled plane trees.

Everything I reach for, he buys.

I record each parting hour for a while. Lapse into silence.

He is gentler than I remember. Offering me a bowl of zhōu, his hands stumble.

Father, recite this world to me.

           银行 a bank

           鸭血 duck blood

           胡同 alley

Listening, I wipe our distance clean.