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

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).

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