N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 2

PETER FENG

Survival

Afternoon, awake from ruins of the dream

He still sees the sea, reefs, ship without anchor

Bodies of his friends floating on the water…

Plums seem to blossom eternally on his neighbor’s veranda

Overriding seasons, the eye remembers beating of the sea

The unseen girl plays piano behind the curtain, for many days

She practices the same melody, the man in her heart holding

Her hand while her hand flipping the keyboard

A gecko crawls over the wall where vines hang

Covering torches and cries of shipwreck

In his vision the horizon of sea seems everywhere

He lights a cigarette, takes off sailors’ clothe

And walks to the roof to repair the garden, he paints

The barbed wire as white as his name

Lacking repairs for a long time these buildings look like titans

Experienced in weather, they have forgotten pain though keep

Peeling off, the sound of piano from the girl reminds him of

Days on the sea, white days, the taste of salt

He builds a rain-shelter, clips wild twigs and

Watches the sea afar from top of the house

He will marry and have children and listen to music each day

Behind the shading vines he begins to live

[First appeared in Poetrysky (Winter 2011). Used by permission of the author.]