To write a word

Posted on Posted in Poetry

This is a poem I wrote a couple of years ago, one that talks about that night it shook the windows I used to look at Shanghai through:


 

To Write a Word

 

Believe I wrote a word
and by doing so
you’d come to this,
this time outside the city
this time that silently lurks into my sin.
 
 
Believe I did write that word
and by the power bestowed upon my voice
you’d show as the reflection on the glass;
 
 
that the window is the broadest barrier
that I don’t know where you really are.
 
 
If ever I did write that so expected word
of your lips
of mine
the word that how encompasses both your eyes
and as far as now I do sit here
on this other side of the glass
this time outside Shanghai:
 
 
Your body
word by word
would I
reconstruct
out of my sin
of a night
of a long time silenced
of your breath and tears
of your waist
countless times drawn on my palms;
of your desire
that came out of nowhere
that had been forever prowling in your room
of your room
that is now part of that other
on the other side of this line I call
the glass before Shanghai:
 
 
of your room
of the death that from your room
shook the world and broke your heart.
 
 
Believe I knew the word
know that I would die
waiting for you to hear the word
and come back.

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