Poetry Issue 21


Sharon Wang

Dear xx,

At my ‘bravest’ a tiny hammer knocking
could shatter me across all of space,

I felt so small.
I buried myself in the eye

of a vacated cocoon, where I was
nothing & no-one.

You know how longing is like a dwarf star
that collapses and then

everything around it is un-measurable
and suddenly I was inside a speck of dark matter

or maybe I was the matter.
And every dog

that crossed the street in the morning
felt like a hound that crossed

a raging sea to reach me from you,
on a distant gyring star.

You see, I am writing you now, cutting you
loose from the white flag of me.

I want you to trample the tide-stones
with your ties to me waving

milky in the air like a cut bandage,
I want mine to be the hands that help yours undo them,

and most of all

I want you to be my longing turned outward

where it can finally disappear

I want you to live.