RITA WANG
'A-part'
Shut.
the door only opens
when the night
chills remind me
of you
I would walk
into that
room of shredded
memories for some warmth
your hand wraps
around mine
like after a lake swim
the towel laches
onto the body
all that sweat, mud-water, body heat
and the towel
become one
identification
standing amongst
shades of dark
the room feels
particularly real
every time I come in here
I would pick
up a piece--
some shredded part
of you
put it onto myself
like a coat
and walk out
with your colors
on me.
'Rain, after a farewell'
The sound takes
over
what lingered on that
made everything so
much harder to
drop
like the rain
after days of
concealed weariness
its scent
lifts up all
that has drowned
'Some time in December'
I feel
like a bird
sometimes, flying
alone between cliffs
in the winter
when it's all
white
I don't see anything
not even
shadows
only feel my wings
clapping against
the wind
at night
the stars above
make me feel far
away from where I belong
soon my body will be frozen
and buried under
the snow
then I can close my eyes
and see where
I have been.