Y.X. Xia is a scientist by day, poet by
daydream. His work has been published or is forthcoming from Strong
Verse, Society of Classical Poets, Boston Literary Magazine, Otoliths,
Pantheon Magazine, Star*line, Eunoia Review and elsewhere (see yuxingxia.wordpress.com). He also really likes boards that promote justice such as the washboard. Like really, all kinds of flat boards.
Not
Running Away
Velvet threads
fell
on top of our
bed
as the night
descended
into plain sight.
Finally, our dog
left
the room for
prolonged
hibernation. Even
under
dull moonlight,
we were
dually locked in
embrace, letting
the excitement
hold
our breaths in
short
bursts toward
the edge
of our imaginary
bed.
Willow
Tree
Beneath the
stout willow tree,
a branch’s worth
of leaves depart
for a long
descent to my shoulder.
I tried to grasp
its swiveling body,
but could barely
touch its silky skin
before it
wandered away.
Apple tree
You tell me about the apple tree
you planted a century ago:
its soft murmurs of survival
through pacing monsoons
and underage thieves,
the way a branch
becomes a swing set,
how leaves become a cloak,
and I believed you
but only as much
as an empty hole
will tell strangers
and I believed you
but only as much
as an empty hole
will tell strangers
its story.
Apple Tree is a reprint from Nazar
Look.
~Y.X. Xia
