Amy Gong Liu

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



so while i’m

waiting for you

to finish you

might as well              //          keep on your



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).


Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload