Endowed in perpetuity by the Glenna Luschei Fund for Excellence

Good Friday

Good Friday

By Tan Lixin

As though diseased by the rot that lies
near their roots, trees in the cemetery are
usually dead. But in April, flowers white
and small like the plates of your skull and
light and soft like the china in your hands
push themselves up from where
your body is caged. If I close my eyes
I can see your soul slipping out from
the sealed mouth of the ground,
free of time and space and decay

your sweet ghost reaching out
up and above the flowers
to meet the sun.


Tan Lixin

Tan Lixin's debut collection of poems is Keeping Skeletons. She is the founder of Wallflowers, an art journal, and she also dedicates her weekends to volunteering in a shelter. 

Return To TOC