Mekong

 

                for Marguerite Duras

In the dry season of the Mekong

It is up to us to carry the buckets,

Douse the cabin with water, make our

Own river to sluice away dust and scorpions.

We stack the chairs. Build a bridge

With the tables. Bathe the floors in

Yellow-foaming soap.  It is time to rejoice

Our mother tells us. We can dance barefoot, sing

And she will play her piano again

The only tune she knows

The only one we’ll keep

Forever.