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Self-Portrait as Exit Wounds
par
Ocean Vuong
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Instead, let it be the echo to every footstep drowned out by rain, cripple the air like a name flung onto a sinking boat, splash the kapok's bark through rot & iron of a city trying to forget the bones beneath its sidewalks, then through the refugee camp sick with smoke & half-sung hymns, a shack rusted black & lit with Bà Ngoại’s last candle, the hogs' faces we held in our hands & mistook for brothers, let it enter a room illuminated with snow, furnished only with laughter, Wonder Bread & mayonnaise raised to cracked lips as tеstament to a triumph no one recalls, lеt it brush the newborn's flushed cheek as he’s lifted in his father's arms, wreathed with fishgut & Marlboros, everyone cheering as another brown gook crumbles under John Wayne's M16, Vietnam burning on the screen, let it slide through their ears, clean, like a promise, before piercing the poster of Michael Jackson glistening over the couch, into
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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