Ask the Moon
© Rita Banerji 2002
Last night, to my head on the pillow,
you sent a letter
through an eighth century Chinese poet.
I read it
with my eyes closed.
I didn’t even know I knew Mandarin.
You said, each moon in the sky
brings me to you,
because it comes
only after
I have lain my eyes on it.
My father died: you said,
just like that,
abruptly.
I will be afraid to ask
should our roads cross again,
and should I discover
that you really did send that letter,
and that we were never really apart.
The moon is witness.
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