Poetry
Winter | Spring:
Saigon 1975 / Natalie Linh Bolderston
after ‘Mirror’ by Rita Dove
Home
forward and backward-facing.
Horsehair hammocks
catching sparks.
Singed Christmas trees.
Come, unholy,
to beg
the names of God, the
kingdom, united but broken.
Siphon
light draining from eyes.
Daughters hold fires
like honey in floating gods, like
unrecitable scripture.
New Offensive:
light orange gas.
Land that shakes
like crouching tigers, like
old bodies, smoking men, fatigued
tar-wrapped hearts.
Boats buckling with scarred women,
weapons hidden against trembling wrists.
Shadows of families
escape to nowhere.
Want of breath
changes nothing.
Home
facing backward and forward.
Hammocks, horsehair,
sparks catching
trees. Christmas singed
unholy. Come,
beg to
the God of Names, the
broken but united kingdom.
Siphon
eyes from draining light.
Fires hold daughters
like gods floating in honey, like
scripture: unrecitable.
Offensive new
gas. Orange light
shakes that land
like tigers crouching, like
fatigued men, smoking bodies, old
hearts, tar-wrapped.
Women scarred with buckling boats,
wrists trembling against hidden weapons.
Families of shadows –
nowhere to escape.
Breath of want –
nothing changes.