Y, Y

You love ‘Y’, not because it’s the first letter

In your family name, but because it’s like

A horn, which the water buffalo in your

Native village uses to fight against injustice

Or, because it’s like a twig, where a crow

Can come down to perch, a cicada can sing

Towards the setting sun as loud as it wants to

More important, in Egyptian hieroglyphics

It stands for a real reed, something you can

Bend into a whistle or flute; in pronouncing it

You can get all the answers you need, besides

You can make it into a heart-felt catapult

And shoot at a snakehead or sparrow, as long

As it is within the range of your boyhood

Changming Yuan