It’s late, Li Po, but I’ve some questions,
as the moon rises behind a veil of mist–
shapely, yet demure: how did her silvery light
guide your pen? And–if I may dare to ask–
how many lovers did your verses win you?
Were any of them wealthy? Were any
of them married? You’ve never written
of their beauty or their charms.

And who–please tell me–who
was your favorite? Did she ride you,
with her robe loosely tied round her pale plump belly
’til she flushed like the strawberry moon?
I beg you, Li Po–share your secrets with me.

Published in the Rat’s Ass Review