Winter Worm, Summer Plant

It looks like a worm, but really it’s a plant
From Qinghai-Tibet—the Blue Treasure Plateau
Where bat moths lay eggs on thin grass
And lava hatch by thousands
Through their mouths fungus invades
The sickened worms crawl into the soil
Heads up as they turn in agony
Till spring comes and the fungus bursts—
A purple sprout on the hollowed head
On the first day, it has the best value as medicine
On the second, half of its potency is lost
On the third, it becomes a weed
This is how chongcao grows on the high plateau
Where glacier water tumbles into Asia
It’s not lava or plant
Not gold or diamond
But cooked with ducks, turtles, or sparrows
It cures cancer, increases sex drive, keeps women young
In Mao’s era, a bag of chongcao traded for a pack of cigarettes
Now a kilogram sells for $25,000
So merchants insert wires into their tiny bodies
Soak them with alum and mercury
to add weight, color, and shine
or simply make plaster fakes smoked with sulfur
For those who want longer lives, better sex
When the wind blows in early spring
Traders mob the Three River Source—headwater
Of China’s major rivers where chongcao grow
Nomads and their children come
By trains, trucks, tractors, motorcycles, horses
They set up tents, put on masks, rubber pants
They get down on their knees and search each blade
To gather a chongcao, thirty square miles of grass is turned
A kilogram leaves behind thousands of holes
Where rats have moved in, churning
The Blue Treasure Plateau into a new desert