By Suraj Singareddy ’25
After “Red Wall” by Yi Lei, translated by Tracy K. Smith and Changtai Bi
I plant violets in my ears
Their splitting stems birth
green tongues – digging, screwing, bursting
like kudzu through
my tympanic membrane
middle ear
isthmus
eustachian tube
nasophraynx
oral cavity
poke their heads out
bushels unfurling in my
jaw expands with double-
ended flowers
where did the root go
live twines press an itch in my throat
I am overgrown
and you bite off a petal
one from my ear
and then an entire head
and the vines inside me
break
sap
post-nasal drip
and I suddenly know where the root went
buds through pores
blooming beneath my soles
lifting me off balance
I stretch my toes
wriggling to touch dirt
receptacle to skin
pollen-washed concrete
pushing up, up, bite it
off, again
