24. 明
My glasses reside in a gold, silk case.
Black calligraphy curls from its corners,
and delicate square seals decorate its sides.
These motifs are Mine.
The sun and moon—Mine,
sacred symbols in straight, square lines.
I squeeze too tight on the tiny wood chop,
and lucky red ink spills
from my palm to the stamp.
This motif is Mine.
The red bride—Mine.
The spice of star anise in stew—Mine.
Stinky tofu—Mine.
Clanking coins in a red envelope,
floral fabric enveloping my neck,
intricate rattail fastenings—all Mine.
They're Mine.
I swear on the sun and moon,
my sacred symbols in straight, square lines,
that these motifs are Mine.
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