Hungry Ghosts

1. the grand historian makes a virtue of necessity

Dear Heart, you hear the gossip Lord Hu circulatesabout how I begged the Emperor to castrate meinstead of quaffing down the poisoned cup, how baseI am to return a remnant of the blade to my father.

The slander passes in wine cups around the courtonce every year. More often if the border’s quiet.My name’s divulged to new officials as a jokeor else a warning not to defame the Son of Heaven.

Defame! Because I spoke up for General Li,who fought the Xiongnu brutes until he was brought down.Each day my bowels twist nine times. The nights! So wroteZhouyang: Accumulated slander destroys bone.

Sweat springs from my cold hands and runs into the ink.I have completed writing Records—all one hundredand thirty chapters—from the earliest sage-kingsdown to the present reign: more than two thousand years.

To the fragments gathered by my father for the workhe dreamt about but did not start, I added fleshand bones, stitched them together into history.The Master edited one Spring and Autumn Annals

which Records extends—Essays, Chronological Tables,Hereditary Houses. Lord Hu’s father preensin Chapter Fortynine, embroidered with such truecolors that his son’s balls, in his rich robe, will shrink.

In my Biographies, kings are threaded with assassins,male favorites, butchers, turtleshell diviners, women,whose names are commonly lost unless they cling like fleasto a warhorse tail flying over bamboo strips.

My work will live and penetrate every house,village, city, district, province, court and state.The written word is sharper than the word of mouth.It will scratch out my shame in Silkworm Hall. It will

revise my name. In Hell my father will have his bookthough not his son. I chose, my Heart, a higher dutywhen I begged him for my mutilated life. Burnthis letter in a cup of wine and drink to me.

2. the scholar minister gives career advice

He has come to display his respect and so court my support,this young scholar who topped the imperial examination,    like so many before him year after year.

Already he follows the fashion of snipping a sleeve.Already he wears a fine powder to whiten his face,    accentuate his swallow brows.

He refreshes this ashen room like spring rain. A young bambooat once strong and supple, he flowers but yearns to buckle    his body in a public robe.

In my hands The Sayings—the graying calligraphy,the bamboo ribs bound by a belt of twine and worn    by age and use. The sage’s words

are imperial edicts engraved on the heart’s bronze urn.He’s repeating his question. I answer, Virtue is forged    through loyal service to the court.

3. the emperor’s male favorite waits up for him

Holding the mirror, I study my plucked eyebrows,    worry my fringecurl,        touch my lips with rouge.

He gave me this mirror. On its back, twin dragons    braid their jadescaled        bodies into sinew.

The Peach Terrace glints under the autumn moon,    pink as skin seen        through red silk gauze.

Are the lights in the Audience Hall still burning    or has he removed Heaven        to some other room?

I asked Eunuch Shu earlier for the Emperor’s mood.    The army has pushed back        the barbarians, he said,

and recouped the loss of ten frontier towns    they took from us        a month ago.

A victory then. Another change. The wine has turned cold.    On the old coverlet,        the kingfisher molts.

4. the taoist magician’s last address

My followers, I am about to turn immortal.After ingesting cinnabar for years,I’ll soon become like Princely Qiao and Song.

You know the costs—I have spoken of them,when I was stricken by the longing to live—how longing broke and drove me out of me:

resigned from lucrative town temple posts,slept in a different bedroom from my wife,and even sent away the serving boy.

When lust sneaked past the bodyguards yet again,I...