for Doreen


There are four meanings of the word,
you see. An army ready for battle.
A rain tree strangled by the creeping cord
of a vine. Welcomes which won't settle
down. And most deliberate of all:
a piece of bread broken over a low
table. Cups of wine. Days recalled
the same way in fruit and overflow.

We are guests together in this land
it seems, both chasing dreams and being
in our time. I don't have much to give
to replace what I took from your hand
but this transplant. One more meaning
to keep. I only hope my words will live.

                                                                                Tse Hao Guang