Keyi Wang
The Twelfth Elegy
If I stopped murmuring
who would question me down here
amidst these unripened pomegranates?
Take one. Think of its plumpness
its redness its silence
its fury its nonchalance
towards its own existence—
that tender inability to be crushed
Nothing depends on
an angel, so squish
her in my hands, pearls
in poison, repeating
words, they call them
language, okay, isn’t it
just food, drenched in
red lips & vodka, groping
for dirt, for cotton, for
winter coconuts, for
even days after it leaves the womb.
We have wasted too many eternities
in attempting to preserve the “is”
the “was” the “will be.” We watched
the ups and
downs of the acrobats
your worn copy of Oedipus
to prove our nonlinear line
of reasoning is going some-
where—cream cheese, pepper,
fractured bananas, but my
aged plum juice frosts along
and their persistence in performing
because their audience
paid to watch. Oh—isn’t transience
all about this unstoppable continuation?
The supposed ideal performance
wouldn’t alter the brevity
this music, sway sway turn
groove along sing along,
a long way of flamenco to
tell Lord Henry this isn’t
hedonism, what does it
mean anyway, just night-
gowns, nightstands, air
sober enough to jump off
of our stay:
to oversearch is to blunder
and to overthink is to fear.
Clinging to those
we temporarily touch
and longing for those
that temporarily touch us…
Leave a window open
for death to waltz in—
this rendezvous of consolation
shall cure the backstreets
a Parisian balcony where
I thought I’d started to
understand things but
what even is this, so hand
me salt, pillows, erasers
weep before bed because
of pain and the city of apparitions.
Listen to the party
still in full bloom
still with laughter
audible through the wall. I hope
to die like a kid
falling asleep
in a family party
wondering when it will end
and feeling safe knowing
it’s okay to fall asleep.
Run a bath.
Read a little more.
Race while wine-drunk on a cruise ship.
Happiness comes in waves
I am funny, am I not?
Let scrunchies advise
those gaps in circuits
(for the plot I swear)
heat meaning error
spark meaning heat
keep the first person
away & loosen its ties
when the moon rises
just for the fun of it.
Keep hating.
Keep loving
even unrequitedly
for our love
can be only unrequited—
we learned to love existing
just to learn
that even the wind
has chosen to ignore us.
Ugly lonely beings:
what’s wrong with
us, me, what our
pronouns couldn’t
point to, for I’m now
what I’ve argued against
and now here now the
insides of the fruit oh
red red burning sapphire
isn’t it a joy
that we are disappearing?
After walking through this
death should be easier.
Letting go
is to become art
and being let go
is to become human.
Angels, I really called you
to pass this minute
waiting for coffee to
drip
no I have to hang up
I need to go but I
am not an angel &
no prose no mesocosm
no pomegranates no
hairbands no buttons
no dictionaries no no
wait no okay right—
into my lovely
mug.
Only on Earth will you know
the falling of a happy thing
is just
gravity.