Outside, the palm tree

faces its rainforest leaf-fall,

backs the bamboo hut

where Wang Bo

carves its discarded seeds,

hard as ivory,

with hands rooted

in the present by his past.

From one oval nut

a Lilliputian elephant emerges,

tusks eco-friendly,

eyes bright but sightless.

Wang Bo signs his characters

in red ink on the polished head,

sends his mother a pittance in Peking,

rubs palm oil into work-worn fingers

and chooses another tagua nut.