The Co-Mother-in-Law

Listen here → “The Co-Mother-in-Law”

The co-mother-in-law from the village never comes to the city,
she saw the New District by the sea-lake and stuck out her tongue in shock;
how many souls can this hive of cast iron hold,
those window-eyes, row after row, staring blankly at whom.\

The co-mother-in-law from the city never comes to the village,
she saw a little potato and squeezed her eyes shut tight;
all this dirt-caked roughness, and you do not even dust it off,
straight to the hearth it goes, buried whole, amen and all.\

The co-mother-in-law from the village never comes to the city,
she saw an unmanned convenience store with its cold-lit sign;
she stepped in, then backed out again, muttering that it was strange,
without a trace of living breath, how can a place like this sell a thing.\

The co-mother-in-law from the city never comes to the village,
she saw a stack of wheat sheaves piled up like a mountain;
she circled it three times, her footsteps slowing down,
such an enormous tribute offering, who could ever bite through it, heavens.\

The co-mother-in-law from the village never comes to the city,
she saw the neck of a tower crane twist around toward her;
its iron arm sliced open the belly of the sky and showed the white of bone,
with one hook like that, how many windowsills could it fish up.\

The co-mother-in-law from the city never comes to the village,
she came to the wheat stubble field in October and stuck out her tongue again;
she took it for chives, cut once and planted once more,
fried on both sides in a pastry pocket till it turned frost-pale white.\