The Grasshopper as Thermometer
My foot thump on the lawn is a stone
plunged to conjure a ripple of skipping circles.
You are the tips of grass, the nodules of stick,
the raised splinters of timber decking.
Hind legs poised to grind another angle –
are you sunbathing, or contemplating
your blade units of displacement,
the slow motion stills from the blur of below?
The number of chirps in eight seconds
plus five and you tell me that the pumpkins bronzed
handsomely as the clouds fattened
that the cherry blossoms awakened
in a lingerie of frost. The serrations of comb
against scraper, the songless listening
through their bellies the strings
of a mercury sunrise. You dial through
the stridulation static and search
for the frequency of still air
before you took that first leap.
Rachael Li Ming Chong is a poet and teacher of Chinese-Malaysian heritage, born and based in London. She is a winner of The Poetry Archive’s WordView 2021 Competition. Her debut poetry pamphlet The Red Strings Between is forthcoming with Verve Poetry Press in early 2024.
Modron Magazine 