By Changming Yuan
A whole box of human hearts, each
Still pulsing like a fresh-skinned toad
Two rows of shining skeletons of unknown gods
All with fingers longer than legs, skull-sized toes
Three sets of enchanted knives, possessed
By evil spirits (need sharpening)
Four giant alarm clocks, guaranteed
To wake the dead in a five-mile radius
Five wine bottles filled with pickled souls
As colouful as the rainbow over the Styx
How much for just the reddest heart?
Changming Yuan, 6-time Pushcart nominee and author of Chansons of a Chinaman (2009) and Landscaping (2013), grew up in rural China, holds a PhD in English, and currently tutors in Vancouver, where he co-edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan and operates PP Press. Most recently interviewed by PANK, Changming has poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Exquisite Corpse, London Magazine, Threepenny Review and 749 others across 28 countries.