1 Imitate
the
sounds
your
father
made
with
his
whiskered
mouth
against
the
belly
of
your
mother
expecting,
wanting
a
girl.
Your
first
piece
of
clothing
was
a
pink
dress.
You
hear
him
with
his
pink
dress
through
the
maze
of
your
bamboo
thicket.
Later
when
he
would
kiss
you
each
night
you
would
remember
the
sound
of
those
whiskery
lips. 2 Do
we
have
a
choice?
Do
man-eating
tigers
have
a
choice? 3 We
eat
you
because
you
disrespect
the
earth.
We
are
your
ancestors.
We
taught
you
to
love
and
cuddle.
Have
you
ever
seen
a
tiger
mother
cuddle
her
young?
But
you
forget.
We
do
have
a
choice.
To
eat
you
and
earn
your
scorn,
earn
our
families
the
shit-flinging
name
maneater.
Or
give
up
the
earth.
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Exhibition: The Last Performance [dot org] @ Haus Der Kulturen Der Welt