An excerpt from Joss: A History by Grace Yee

The following excerpt is from Joss: A History (June 2025), Grace Yee’s follow-up to her triple-award-winning poetry collection, Chinese Fish.

I have heard

that the price of a pound of gold has gone grey 
       over the last couple of months
that the first sovereign lord beheaded his grandson
that chinese market gardeners in suburbia shipped out 
       after decades of fasting and purification
that evil-intentioned hooligans penetrated the palace gardens, 
       ran amok and torched every tree
that all the animals – except the amphibians and one in every five 
       humans – perished
that those who remained were photographers and craftsmen, 
       whose splendour proved to be a waste of lime and quicksand
that all they wanted to do was sugar-coat everything,  
       including the sloppily referenced poorly constructed
       sentences on the shelves of high-street shops that broadcast 
       terra nullius radio
that due to the special enmity between men,
       the gates were hastily closed and a carbon racquet  
       bestowed on the king at the same time that ten mosquito bites 
       were extracted from his super-complex yoga routine
that the real problem is people are so consumed 
       with the manufacture of lacquer and glass 
       they no longer respond to the teachings of the universe:
all they want to do is sip cold-brew mochaccinos,  
       talk about coloured girls through a wall of built-in bookshelves, 
       and move to new zealand for a better life.