DUST BOWL by STEVEN CHUNG

I travel westward to reach
earlier time zones. Cross a line

and I am an hour younger,
though my body doesn’t know it.

I will extend my life this way:
by crossing borders. My ancestors

did the same because they knew
that the only hometown is the skin,

and you can only ever claim one.
Nomads find no reason to age

except when they choose a life
of capture. But I am still a child

growing tired of the earth,
all bowl and dust, all dirt

rising into plume,
everything that rebirths.

—–

Steven Chung is seventeen years old and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Other works appear or are forthcoming in Glass, Potomac Review, Kweli, and more.

Advertisements
Vagabond City Literary Journal

Founded in 2013, we are a literary journal dedicated to publishing outsider literature. We publish art, poetry, and creative nonfiction from marginalized creators.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s