Ghost of Yu Luo Sha shakes her mane of hair,
dandruff everywhere, sits by the bedside
and grinds. We think the dead are unaware
of their genitals, but this is The Bride
with White Hair – at night she returns, touches
former lovers, cat-like, raises one leg,
lowers her hips onto upturned faces.
“Tongue out, love,” she whispers. Look, do not beg
that the soul is dull; as if ghosts don’t seize
every chance to watch you undress at night
or the dead, now pregnancies, S.T.D.s
are not a threat, do not use their birthright
for bliss. Yu Luo Sha, hair loosed, knees up, dress
ripped off, grinds. This is what the dead possess.
