"Chinese Silence number 14," after Billy Collins' "Silence."
"You have the right to remain silent.
That is your job.
A gag plugs your mouth, and the immigrant with her loud sewing
machine has been deported.
So tell us about the mind of China.
We want to hear the silent blooming
of its cherry blossoms, the quiet unfastening of its gowns,
its songs of soy sauce, and tiny bound feet.
Its trains have been blown up by dynamite, its factories bombed
into silence.
Its mewling puppies have been smothered,
and its gods are suffocating inside specimen jars.
Shanghai has been evacuated, and each inhabitant
issued an addition of Gary Snyder.
So tell us about your ancestors, your grandfather
in his bamboo cage, your grandmother drowned
in the well.
Let's hear about the unmoving clouds, the stunted trees.
Read the poem we have placed in front of you.
The Pacific has been drained, and even Ezra Pound
has burst from his grave, his moldering
hand poised to translate what you do not say."