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Borderless
I.
On the night train
cherries wrapped
in newspaper crackle red:
shame’s counterpoint.
The blood beneath my skin
and the blood beneath yours
wear each other out.
II.
February’s malice—
from the window
I spot a fox cutting
across the snow.
A lone blade.
It startled.
No, it was chased.
III.
Everything is mind.
The fox and the cherry,
the shame and the blade.
Even the mouth of the outer world
sipping gingerly
on the broth of us. 
From Eye Level by Jenny Xie. Reprinted with permissions from Graywolf Press.
Borderless
Ongoing 
Phnom Penh Diptych: Dry Season