Death Of The Beast

You think with his death there will be the trembling
of heaven and earth,
but no, only silence coming
from the furrowed field, where
He’d been yoked like a beast
who was never known
to modern machinery.
He fought once,
twice maybe, but the weight of too much
history crushed him, too many orders
from those who brandished the whips.
In the end, he was tossed into the Yangtze River,
though polluted
a long time ago, when the industrial slogans flew
like conjuring flags
above the odor of death.

The sordid land,
once bearer of all the sweat and blood
and hope, looked away from too hot a sun
and sobbed
at night — morning would surely
fake a few tears.

There were no more beasts, you said,
only man to obey and surrender to a force
not so natural—
an organized force,
a ponderous structure above you and me.


Photo by kazuend on Unsplash

Aiden Heung

Aiden Heung is a native Chinese poet born and raised on the edge of Tibetan Plateau. He holds an MA in literature at Tongji University in Shanghai where he currently works and lives. His poems have been published in many online and offline magazines, most recently in New English Review, Literary Shanghai, The Shanghai Literary Review, A Shanghai Poetry Zine, Eunoia Review, The Thirty West Publishing house, Anak Sastra, Ink in Thirds Magazine and The Laterals Magazine where he’ll be featured. He writes both in English and Chinese.