China boy, with inlaid eyes like the eggs of a sparrow,
Jet candyfloss lashes, three-color lips a work of art.
Little blue and white, cobalt oxide, Ming porcelain heart,
And milk-white blanc de chine bones filled with matte marrow.
Oh, my miniature glazed honey, as fair as a pharaoh!
You insult your kiln to renounce the kaolin in each part—
Fragile as a flower crown, precise as a natal chart,
But a stoneware girl was shattered by a china arrow—
She was crafted of the same finest clay,
Whiter, smoother even. Though not so fair
In sculpt. A more crudely made china fay,
Rougher, but sturdier, and no less rare.
China and hardy, not that it mattered;
When my china boy struck I still shattered.
Picture credit: Ah Xian.