Zipper along the spine/ The clavicle
as thick as a finger/ If there is any

happiness/ it smells like her wet hair/
She smiles through the dim glow of

the dying sun/ through the scent of
jasmine/ through the taste of buckthorn

tea/ poured in the finest china/ at half
past two/ She laughs lyrically/ like one

of the artist’s best paintings/ Inimitable as
a magnolia flower/ left by a passerby at

the cold marble steps of the temple/ at
dawn/ A replica of the masterpiece

that makes everyone tremble in awe/
with their mouths open/ even death/

Eaten out with jealousy and envy/
I stare at her/ frightened to the End/

There are no golden days for those
who run/ she smiles to me heartily/

I am not a human/ I am the Universe/
she says/ and my clones are halfway here/

I have seen Her in every copy of the eternal
Universe/ not aging/ not changing/ not dying/

To fate/ all my symphonies are empty sounds/
I would not advise anyone to look deeper/

I am not a human/ she says/ I am the scam
of the times/ But who then are you?