Loi Krathong Poem by Kathy Greethurst

For Danny

In a hotel in Kowloon,
I booked a reading
with a Chinese fortune-teller.

I expected a man
in red silk robes
with a bootlace moustache.

He turned up, fresh-faced,
dressed in a denim shirt
and straight black jeans.

I told him my date of birth.
He checked his charts,
declared my children would be few.

A week later,
in Hua Hin,
I lit a tea light,

launched it
on a swimming pool
in a boat made from banana leaves.

I prayed to the river spirits,
not knowing if they'd listen,
for a son to continue our family name.

Nine months later, you were born.