The arch of the sky keeps pulling; no forecast of rain;
Over us clouds undeveloped into silk chaining east to west.
Above the tedious skyline the early sun brings colors
brings news of a warm day.
But we’ve become too lazy to imagine better days than this,
both you and I, perched on the park bench,
watching the brittle shadow of poplar trees molt into a lighter shade;
a covey of magpies above us beading their notes into the chorus of spring.
I’m happy. I want to start a conversation about this very moment before the distance
that keeps us apart breaks into yesterday or tomorrow.
because I feel perfectly safe here, my lungs stopped hurting,
because light and heat play on every leaf like lovers,
because I want to steal one shred of warmth and seal it in my verse for your lips to open.
Remember the lambent April light I gave you.
Aiden Heung is a Chinese poet born and raised on the edge of the Tibetan Plateau. He holds an MA in literature from Tongji University in Shanghai. His recent poems can be found in Poet Lore, Hobart, Parentheses, Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, the Dunes Review , Voices & Verse, Mingled Voices Anthology among many other places. He was awarded the 2019 Hong Kong Proverse Poetry Prize.
He can be found on twitter @AidenHeung and aidenheung.com