In the Countryside, Gods Are Sensible

In my countryside, gods sit in the poor’s

family halls,  they have accepted those

simple meals. One winter when they gathered

on the cold cheerless incense table, sharing a few

pieces of roasted sweet potatoes,

my little-footed grandma, not caring if they liked it or not,

brought a basin of water and washed their ceramic faces

one by one. After that, she cleaned

the black residues from the corner of my lips

--Yeah, they're like children, even younger than me,

too dumb and dull to say “sweet”

or cry “cold”. In the countryside

gods are so sensible.