The Centaur Festival Who willed this city? And you here. Who will Decode the avenue of potted asparagus, yew needles And snake gourd lanterns hung from the eaves. This festival is unknown to you. You do not recognize The constellations etched on the obsidian plate; it is Toward the starless sky, children lift up their bellflowers Lit from within. Fish-mouthed, you pass through rows Of acetylene torches, the stalls of tortoise shell candies, Cinnamon water, and bottles of five-pointed sand grains- Someone hands you a goldfish in a wineglass, and you Force yourself to speak in their language by swallowing The fish alive, feeling its scarlet scales flake off as it touches Your throat, the pyramid of its belly wriggles to choke you.