Aaron Zhang

The air emptied of summer.

The summer emptied of air.

The impression in the sand’s edge;

The wave as shadow. Silking over

The branches, spidering

As we watch. Lose a leaf, lose

Another. Lose the pretense

Of loss.

Where is the winter, the unimaginable

Zero winter? The noon and the paper

Wreath. The soiled and coiled

Breath. Waver in the dark beam.

Sit for the afternoon. Stir sand

Underfoot and hear

Nothing. Beneath light as a pool, a stream

Over the mouth, the bridge, the canal

Of an ear. Do you hear it ring.

The children leap and assume waterform.

The flesh of a shell, peach, cheek.

Cochlea as nautilus, the world reflected

As warble. As sustenance, as the echo

Of a fallen peach.


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