Introduction
It had to be from someone whose grandparents were born in Shanghai
not the city’s greatest citizens, but certainly among the sober ones
to make their small now eroded mark
It had to be from a distant or dissolute descendant (yes, moi)
who can sing praises unworthy of even a flicker of your attention
Doesn’t this sound like it might turn into a love poem or a prayer
Well, you are wrong, because a man of the people,
which I am not nor will I ever be,
doesn’t single out one above all others
as this is a hierarchical construction
and therefore undemocratic and antihumanist
It had to be from someone whose virtues do not include stubbornness,
patience, gentleness, loyalty, or truthfulness
It had to be from someone who could take my place
after I left the room
never to return
It had to be from someone who didn’t exist
before this poem
began writing itself down
