I chose black or the colour black has chosen me
withered stars, curled up under the canopies
the earth, the air and naked trees
the close calls from the tips of those misty hills
the isle of refugees
the horizon indistinguishable from the port
the clouds lower than the water
when the storms are eager to swallow whole the light
-house
trying to find the light the night sings its own tune
the wind of the tides flows
I’m on the roof of a house
the silent rafts are blown away by the cliffs
as the western glebe preen its feathers, flies away in the October light
I dip my fingers into the water
pick up the smell of fish scales so the sea may wash it away
I’m familiar with the nightmares
bulging like a metastasized nipple
passing a mirror in a dark corridor
I’m the testament of the sky
a dead fish on the cold boat deck
my neighbour is an annoying spectre
in thick glasses, on me
he drops his bombs
the days unbelievably adrift
me falling
like a boat smashed to smithereens
my death is slow
the grey waves crashing in my lungs
a version of migrating fish
or the procession of a funeral
on a bed soaked with sweat
where the dwarves grows nonsensically in a quadratic equation
I find an annotation describing the saints and apostles
in a tattered dream rows away in a boat
–
January 2024
Source: hope and the breaths wrapped in a song – Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm




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