by Chungyen Chang
Monday, two in the afternoon
a great man was born today.
Alone in this house,
a room painted orange
notebook on salmon-colored pillow.
I hold my breath and listen deep,
a digging sound in the corner of my mind.
Some termite’s gonna dig the ground right up
from underneath me,
carry me to the center of the earth.
There are only two paths from there:
escaping my termite overlords, or
imploding body into self,
recycled into magma chambers.
Ticking clock, a red line
following its path across a round, clear face.
We look into time,
but does time look back?
Outside a child calls
and two blocks away, cars blaze past
sun’s out but my fingers freeze
exposed in winter wind.
I hold my breath and listen deep
by a house which never changes
and the wind can’t reach my still-warm center
wiggling life back into toes.
Beating in the corner of my chest
my eyes an unreliable narrator
in this story of my life
and this is an afternoon alone.
This poem was submitted by C-Squared of Dark is Easy
Category: Submitted Poetry