Sonnet of the Seven Chinese

The Augsburg poet once said he had tacked an image of the Man of Doubt to the wall of his room. A Chinese print. The image asked: how ought one to act? I have a photo on my wall. Twenty years ago seven Chinese workers looked into my lens. They look wary or ironic or tense. They know I do not write for them. I know they didn’t live for me. Yet sometimes I feel I’m being asked for more candid words, more credible deeds, by their doubtfulness. In turn I ask their help in making visible the contradictions and identities among us. If there’s a point, it’s this.