Ocean Vuong

Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.

To be or not to be. That is the question. A question, yes, but not a choice.

I am ready to be every animal
you leave behind

there are two headless people building a burning house

a fifth of vodka & an afternoon in the attic, your fingers
through my hair—my hair a wildfire

& you’re young

until septembe

this far to be no one & it’s june

until morning you’re young until a pop song

plays in a dead kid’s room water spilling in

from every corner of summer & you want

to tell him it’s okay that the night is also a grave

The way light

keeps its shadow

by swallowing it.

To love another

man—is to leave

no one behind

to forgive me.

I want to leave

no one behind.

To keep

& be kept.

Anaphora as Coping Mechanism

Can’t sleep

so you put on his grey boots—nothing else—& step

inside the rain. Even though he’s gone, you think, I still want

to be clean. If only the rain were gasoline, your tongue

a lit match, & you can change without disappearing. If only

he dies the second his name becomes a tooth

in your mouth. But he doesn’t. He dies when they wheel him

away & the priest ushers you out of the room, your palms

two puddles of rain. He dies as your heart beats faster,

as another war coppers the sky. He dies each night

you close your eyes & hear his slow exhale. Your fist choking

the dark. Your fist through the bathroom mirror. He dies

at the party where everyone laughs & all you want is to go

into the kitchen & make seven omelets before burning

down the house. All you want is to run into the woods & beg

the wolf to fuck you up. He dies when you wake

& it’s November forever. A Hendrix record melted

on a rusted needle. He dies the morning he kisses you

for two minutes too long, when he says Wait followed by

I have something to say & you quickly grab your favorite

pink pillow & smother him as he cries into the soft

& darkening fabric. You hold still until he’s very quiet,

until the walls dissolve & you’re both standing in the crowded train

again. Look how it rocks you back & forth like a slow dance

seen from the distance of years. You’re still a freshman. You’re still

terrified of having only two hands. & he doesn’t know your name yet

but he smiles anyway. His teeth reflected in the window

reflecting your lips as you mouth Hello—your tongue

a lit match.