Nguyễn Văn Thiện | THE CRACK (32)

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By Nguyễn Văn Thiện, translated by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

THE CRACK

 

You’re cracking, I’m also cracking open, slowly every day, every hour, did you know that? A million-dollar highway just completed, about a metre thick, full of gravel and cement, but cracking already after one night. Let alone you and me, the making of flesh and bone, fragile, full of dangerous openings, how would we not crack open?

I’m slowly cracking open, like flowers of the Queen of the Night, gently, of overwhelming purity, an overwhelming miracle, if you don’t take note, you will miss it blossoming. This morning, on a familiar seat at a corner cafe, an incidental ray of light hit me, like some feral lashing. Clearly, I could see the cracks on my body, slight, odorous of a scar…

Long ago, when I was born, curled up in the hay on a December day, like…

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