David Anson Lee
David Anson Lee
David Anson Lee (Philosopet) is a poet, philosopher, and physician whose work explores the intersections of vision, memory, medicine, and myth. A retired ophthalmologist and former professor, his writing draws on decades of experience in eye disease, neuroscience, and medical humanities, reimagining clinical language as lyrical and speculative form. His poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals and focuses on themes of perception, cultural inheritance, and the fragile boundaries between the seen and unseen. He lives and writes in Texas.
My Mother Hides the Moon in a Rice Bowl
When she arrived from China,
the moon came too.
Folded carefully
between photographs.
Wrapped in newspaper.
Declared at customs
as family property.
For years she kept it hidden
inside a porcelain rice bowl.
At night,
after the dishes were washed,
she would lift the lid.
Moonlight spilled across
the kitchen table.
Enough for one evening.
No more.
Immigrants learn quickly
that light must be rationed.
My father preferred
practical things.
Mortgages.
Paychecks.
Snow shovels.
But my mother trusted
celestial contraband.
She seasoned our noodles
with a pinch of lunar dust.
Taught us that oceans
take instructions
from objects
they never touch.
Taught us that distance
is not the same thing
as absence.
Years later,
after her death,
the bowl remained
on a shelf above the stove.
Waiting.
Some nights,
when the house grows quiet,
I remove the lid.
The moon is smaller now.
Worn smooth by time.
But still there.
Still illuminating
the faces of those
who crossed impossible water
carrying entire skies
inside their luggage.