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The Monkey King’s advice on how to deal as a Protector of Horses
Poetry
You don’t. Not well.
It’s a specific role,
somewhere between dogsbody
and scapegibbon. Who keeps
their Buddha-nature, realising
the sweat of their brow is ignored
when present/unmissed
when absent?
Not I. Not then.
Fight your way out, human,
upturn banqueting tables.
At the end you may get
swatted full-palm like a fly, but
you won’t be grooming
horses for peachpits. You can
stand as equal to your gods,
though perhaps
not quite like
a Great Sage
Equal to Heaven.
May Chong is a bi Malaysian poet/speculative writer with past work in The Willowherb Review, Channel Magazine and Fantasy Magazine. Away from the keyboard, she enjoys birdwatching, great stories and terrible, terrible puns.
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