when Imperial bombs fall
along the Golden Waterway
that is warm as half sipped tea.
Ancient coffins lie in caverns
higher than the exodus
of villagers or sturgeon
when the dam water rises.
Beyond the locks of sleeping
in a narrow shakening
the earth steals your faith
even as you scan the sky.
Somewhere an ambush spooks
and only those humans
whose ears cup the ground
know which way to run.