Passing
Someone said, at first
we want romance, then for life
to be bearable,
at last, understandable.
I am frightened, now
that the trees look like question
marks, how the moon makes
strange noises but it's daytime.
Bells have begun to notice me.
History
Today is circling,
history is transparent,
the future has no insides.
Rain Light
When the mothers leave,
what are we supposed to do?
I have rented light,
but all that's left is a search-
light shining in the
wrong country. What happens to
those raindrops now that
someone has seen them?
Gift
Is silence a gift?
I can't hear my bones shrinking,
the lemon turning yellow.
The flag is louder
than my memories. How I
wish time were a wooden wheel.
Another Year Come
Suddenly I am
free from everything but time.
Time started doubling.
I started dieting so
the gap between life
and death could remain an inch.
I try not to move,
crouch under the raspberry
bush and pull its bullets off.
Calling Late
The men used to call
at all hours, but what I miss
most are the late-night
talks, ones where I held the phone
so close, it pressed like a gun.
__________________________________
Excerpted from The Trees Witness Everything by Victoria Chang, available via Copper Canyon Press.
No comments:
Post a Comment