Ai - Mexico, 1940

At noon today, I woke from a nightmare:   

my friend Jacques ran toward me with an ax,   

as I stepped from the train in Alma-Ata.

He was dressed in yellow satin pants and shirt.   

A marigold in winter.

When I held out my arms to embrace him,   

he raised the ax and struck me at the neck,   

my head fell to one side, hanging only by skin.   

A river of sighs poured from the cut.

Ai (1947-2010)