InDigest Poetics: Ingrid Chung

He came back tall.

with match blacked eyes & a fear

of fireworks. We sat on the sidewalk legs crossed eyes

covered, dawdling – a smoking cigarette

not being smoked, my peeling cuticles. The traffic

ran over our toes beepbeeping away.

His fingers danced the tango in a milky

puddle. I silent.

…

(The day you left was only marked by the dying mums

on my desk. I left them on the heater &

the warmth made them burn pink with shame only

to explode damp mumflakes all over the floor. I thought they looked

like snow or rabbit fur or something & kept them around
for a couple of days, hoping that the semblance of the changing
seasons would actually create the changing of—
the seasons. Like a rain dance. Or the
moon festival.)

The Chinese are all wearing white to express their

sorrow & the fence is melting. Someone is

doing the chicken dance all day long to forget sadness &

I am just struggling to get dressed—

but really, I am wearing your heart upon my sleeve while

walking the wrong way through a crowd like the little girl

that haunts your day terrors (the one whose father had
the empty flesh eyes) & I am

the one who can’t sleep at night with the

tears of giants blinding.

It is the slept-on name comma name backwards on my cheek.

Cold metal. It

is daylight & your fear of spiders & even after it all.

the hat

you left at my apartment that ripped open my

lip corners & a chalkboard message
from the class before that seems to have

been for you.

THIS IS WHAT I WANTED YOU!

TO KNOW!

the water clinging

to the lightpole is not

meant for observation the

crane statue bending over

to escape rust does not beg for

thought sticks float vertically

in the Hudson idunnowhy & guacamole

tastes best scraped off the side

of a bowl smoking still makes me

feel cool even after five

years & polar bears are just

black seals with frostbite it

is not enough to love everyone

& do everything you can for happiness

because sometimes it just

doesn’t happen

…

I play dumb by separating eyelashes with

a finger. Motioning, I tell him

to close his eyes & listen to the cars. He

needs this more than I know. We sit

like this, eyes covered legs crossed,

him with charcoal on his face &

metal swinging round his neck, I

watching dogs picking winter sweaters.

InDigest


		By: Ingrid Chung




	He came back tall. with match blacked eyes & a fear of fireworks. We sat on the sidewalk legs crossed eyes covered, dawdling – a smoking cigarette not being smoked, my peeling cuticles. The traffic ran over our toes beepbeeping away. His fingers danced the tango in a milky puddle. I silent. … (The day you left was only marked by the dying mums on my desk. I left them on the heater & the warmth made them burn pink with shame only to explode damp mumflakes all over the floor. I thought they looked like snow or rabbit fur or something & kept them around for a couple of days, hoping that the semblance of the changing seasons would actually create the changing of— the seasons. Like a rain dance. Or the moon festival.) The Chinese are all wearing white to express their sorrow & the fence is melting. Someone is doing the chicken dance all day long to forget sadness & I am just struggling to get dressed— but really, I am wearing your heart upon my sleeve while walking the wrong way through a crowd like the little girl that haunts your day terrors (the one whose father had the empty flesh eyes) & I am the one who can’t sleep at night with the tears of giants blinding. It is the slept-on name comma name backwards on my cheek. Cold metal. It is daylight & your fear of spiders & even after it all. the hat you left at my apartment that ripped open my lip corners & a chalkboard message from the class before that seems to have been for you. THIS IS WHAT I WANTED YOU! TO KNOW! the water clinging to the lightpole is not meant for observation the crane statue bending over to escape rust does not beg for thought sticks float vertically in the Hudson idunnowhy & guacamole tastes best scraped off the side of a bowl smoking still makes me feel cool even after five years & polar bears are just black seals with frostbite it is not enough to love everyone & do everything you can for happiness because sometimes it just doesn’t happen … I play dumb by separating eyelashes with a finger. Motioning, I tell him to close his eyes & listen to the cars. He needs this more than I know. We sit like this, eyes covered legs crossed, him with charcoal on his face & metal swinging round his neck, I watching dogs picking winter sweaters.