ANOTHER NEW LEAK JUSTIN CARTER - 'MEDITATIONS OVER FRIED-RICE'

Love,


      she says, as she moves
      the pork dumpling to her lips


is a cyanide tablet. 


We’re sitting at a table
inside Shanghai River,
the lights are dim
and my coffee is cold.
      I say,


I don’t want to take a pill.


      I say,


I want love in its purest form,


like a crystalline solid
mined from the earth of my body,
from the center of my granite heart.
I dip a ball of fried pork
into sweet and sour sauce;
the sauce drips down my chin,
on to my shirt.
      She says,


that’s not what love is.


      She says


what do you really want


      She says,


I am telling the truth.


The waitress takes my cup
and pours the molten liquid into it,
but when I press it to my lips,
the coffee is still cold.