The Hermit

Roots

Tell me again about the railroad tracks

your father the herbalist

how he washed his hair every morning

to keep the silky white sheen

spoke to his children

only to give demands

how the L.A. Times eulogized him

for having the first shop

in Chinatown

Tell me

how he read Confucius

how he became a village god

how he never touched

Because now that you are gone too

I have these scattered leaves

the smell of jasmine

a name Mei Ling no one knows

except relatives at funerals

a gold bracelet I never take off

for good luck you said

Tell me about you

and my father

the separate bedrooms

how I somehow sprouted

between restaurant orders

and News with George at 10

how arguments forced me

into my own locked rooms

from which I'm still emerging

with too many keys

and nowhere to go

Now that you are gone

you can tell me

why death gives in

to love

so finally

so completely

Why out of these cold rooms

burns a life smooth and tender

though I drink white wine and not tea

tell me again

how my hair is dark and shiny

how I should tint the gray roots

how I should feel proud

of who I am

though I don't know

It's like the death light

you wanted to touch

but were too scared

So am I

though it's not death

I need to touch