National Poetry Month Day 8: Mai Der Vang

Sorrowed

Lark me from this weathering

Into the petrichor after a hailstorm.

There is symmetry in the water

Like I have never seen, peel of

Hydrangea like I have never felt,

Haloes sharpened from the taste

Of hexagons. Next to your eyes

In the marrow of this fog into each

Particle of our outcome, I grieve

For the countries flaming in our

Lungs after decades of air forsaken.

I don’t want to leave these

Compilations of night, onesome

Even with you as of rain fitted for

Lips undulating toward a smile.

Now this time it loved back, a fruited

Transmuting of my courage into

Smoke and then I heard it to be you:

The sun-swallowed howl of your

Cobra’s heart owning its kingdom.

***

Photograph of Mai Der Vang © Andre Yang.