The Friday Poem: ‘Xiāng’ by Hannah Patterson

The Spinoff · 2 years ago · 142 views

A new poem by Hannah Patterson. Xiāng There’s a pear tree in our backyard And Xiāng tells me She can’t eat them anymore Not after some things that have happened in her life. She tells me, in Mandarin The word for pear sounds the same as the word for disassociation To detach from association With a person. Sometimes, She sees pears everywhere. Now there’s a big bowl of them at the meditation centre And we’re eating them But I will never split one with her Nor she, me Instead, she offers me an orange She doesn’t tell me how sweet it is Breaks it in half and shakes her head, changes her mind, Walks into the fridge to get another one, Gives the whole thing to me, The juice spills over the chopping board She tells me, Eyes sparkling and wide About how fruit is grown from the energy of the sun. Later that night I am crying I watch her pack her bags and leave I watch her zip up her pink metallic suitcase I say I like her key ring – shaped like a bear She gives it to me There’s an empty space on it where her name and address should be I tell her I’ll write her name on it So if I lose anything it will get sent back to her I tell her she reminds me of the orange. When she shows me how to check the kitchen at night We find a stray apple, split, pale belly Bare against the metal bench top We’re going through the checklist Checking everything is good and right Apple on the bench, check I point, we laugh We pull the blue plastic plug out of the industrial dishwasher Turn the lights off The room is grey and chrome and the quails stop warbling at night Before we leave we look back at the table, The apple is in the right place, She says.   The Friday Poem is edited by Chris Tse. Submissions are currently closed.