Life by Hoa Huynh
David Williams
we are a darkened room,
damply curtained.
in us, a window opens.
stars and a moon are out.
“who are we?” you ask
but i don’t know.
so we imagine a sailboat and
head upstream.
we eat everything on board.
the pantry empties.
we sail and sail
under bright night skies.
as the moon sets in the west
with a bright green flash,
in the east
the sun rises.
and we,
the damp and
impenetrable darknesses,
embrace.
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Archives: Fall 2010.
