Because of my bloodline,
I’ve been assured
that the island will put her arms around me
and call me ‘son’.

Because my surname
is written in four strokes,
so will her affection
be uncomplicated.

‘Wei’ the people there call me.
‘Wei’ only to those dearest to me
and hardly anyone else.

Because my lineage
comes from sailors and farmers,
and, I imagine, expelled writers,
it makes for good fantasy.
It lets me puff my chest when I feel
not compelled
to care or belong.

Dear Hainan,
your love is unconditional,
but I have conditions.