The Crazy Lady of Ching Shwei

by Carl Robertson

Voice wrenched
shrill
like shattered china

You sang in
wind that whispered
on wet rice blades

Once the town’s flowered
bride, full-bloomed.

He left
In the green night
when rice is high
and jasmine smell
pulls the belly

You sing T’ang
love songs
by white boys’ home
and say his name.