HUA AI

Still Lovesick

Sunlight backs out of the courtyard, slowly,

with pauses that sound like sobs.

On the stove the clay pot mutters.

Bitter steam rises,

herb scent striking the thin shield of her body.

She gathers herself on the stone,

a single leaf making its own shade.

Inside her a blade has curled.

She strokes it flatter,

trying to pare away a silver of old love.

Each winter the stitched sickness opens.

These roots warm the limbs and hush the noise,

yet the cause sits deeper than the brew.

Still, by fragrance she names them all,

twelve leaves and barks and seeds.

From the circle she chooses 当归, Danggui,

its name speaking of return,

and lets it slip 

into the pile of last year’s leaves.

Hua Ai (also published as Nikolina) is a Shanghai-born, London-based ESL writer whose work spans prose poetry and fiction. Her writing—bridging Chinese imagistic intensity, Slavic gravitas, and English restraint—has appeared in journals across five continents. A Best of the Net nominee and multiple international award recipient, she is releasing her debut UK chapbook with Carcazan Publishing.

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