In Xinjiang, 7,000-miles

away, a morning sun, reflecting off the
glasses of early risers, the windshields

of commuters, is so bright as to redact
last night’s graffiti: Down with Xi.

I’ve been hearing Save the Rainforest
since I was small enough to sleep
in the safety of my parent’s bed
or snuggled with stuffed animals—
pandas, giraffes, monkeys, frogs;