Seasonal Greens
for Juno
i hate //
this primordial
goop of spring // when everything
gets to be sticky. and i can’t
stop thinking about sex
and the children in
//
the crabapples.
//
oak and cherry // you’re
//
banging on my
shoulders, like a child,
to the beat of sanity’s
Metronome.
so while i’m
waiting for you
to finish you
might as well // keep on your
toes
until they freeze
(brittle, like this house of worries):
// Carefully to your west, my lover,
at a family that once populated; at
the remnants that once held our nails,
now; all rusted and overgrown. /
Happy Valley Road
Dear God
(in the cemetery
on the bright
side of the hill
with alkaline
doves for graves):
I wish I could
torch the kind
who wave goodbye
with nothing
but their eyes.
Amy Gong Liu writes poetry and prose about the Sino-American diaspora, translation, longing, loss, and more. She has been published in The Columbia Review, Rabid Oak, Hobart, Foglifter, and others. She thinks too much (or perhaps too little).