N a p a
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WANG
Winter Worm Summer Plant
It looks like a worm, but really it’s a plant
From Qinghai-Tibet—the Blue Treasure Plateau
Where bat moths lay eggs on thin grass
And lava hatch by thousands
Through their mouths fungus invades
The sick worms crawl into the soil
Heads up as they turn in agony
Till spring returns and the fungus bursts––
A tiny purple sprout on the hollowed head
On the first day, it has the best value as medicine
On the second, half of its potency is lost
On the third, it becomes a weed
This is how chongcao grows on the high plateau
Where glacier water tumbles into
It’s not lava or plant
Not gold or diamond
But cooked with ducks, turtles or sparrows
It cures cancer, increases sex drive, keeps women young
In Mao’s era, a bag of chongcao traded two packs of cigarettes
Now a kilogram sells $25,000
For the rich who want to live longer and have more sex
And athletes who want to win medals
in
When wind blows in early spring
Traders mob the Three River Source—headwater
Of the Yangtze and
Nomads and their children come
By trains, trucks, tractors, motorcycles, horses
They set up tents and stoves
Put on masks, rubber pants
They get down on their knees and search each blade
To gather a chongcao, 30 square mm of grass is turned
A kilogram leaves behind thousands of holes
Merchants insert chongcao with wires
To increase the weight of the precious commodity
Soaking them with alum and mercury
The plastered fakes are smoked with sulfur
For the rich who want bigger testicles
And on the Blue-treasure Plateau
Rats are making happy homes
The Water Tower of Asia is becoming a desert