Days by Liu Xua
Our life, like the calendar
on the wall,
presents a stale picture.
Friends come at night
and I cook enough dishes to cover the table—
remembering to put salt in each.
You get chatty
without even drinking wine.
Everyone is happy and eats chicken feet
until the bones are sucked white.
At dawn, our friends are suddenly gone
like a breeze.
The sunflowers on the window curtain
are crazily bright
against the light.
Cigarette ashes and beautiful fish bones
are jammed down our throats.
Without looking at each other
we climb into bed. Art by Karl Walser Recommended listening: Nocturnes - Erik Satie Links of the Day: An unpublished short story by teenage Truman Capote Thom Atkinson’s Soldiers Inventories The Creator's Project Australia's Nessie