From the Archive: Kim Fu (CAROUSEL 34)
KIM FU
Lifecycle of the Mole-Woman: Infancy as a Human
I’ve seen this waist-high grass
and weeping tree before, in a drugstore frame
and a Bollywood movie, the trunk a pivot point
for coquettish hide and seek. On the cover
of Vanity Fair it had a swing,
just two ropes and a plank, a girl levitating
on the tip of her coccyx. Poofy virginal
white dress, elegant lipstick slash, Cubist chin,
she had it all. Someone proposed here,
votive candles in a heart, a flowered trellis;
it went viral on the internet and spawned
a thousand thousand proposals. Someone
has decided this is a place where no one
can be ugly, this lonely hillside that bears
but one tree, one strand of sweet grass,
summer sun fixed at one low angle,
stuck like broken spotlight. The branches
ache to be free of their heavy greenery,
to winter for once. Shorn, fallen, and bare.