POST-APOCALYPSE WITH SUN INTACT
You ask me to tell the truth, so I say,
Bloodroot seeds lure passage into an ant den like
a child in a barrel
on the bed of a truck crawling up a mountain. They cover
themselves in debris until it is time. From each root unfurls
stem and flower. I broke
my feet so I could dance like a petal en pointe, worthy of love.
I tell you our foot arches are supposed to steady us.
god: after we paint the fruit, may we eat the fruit? You’ve exposed
yourself to the ever-halving mouths of strangers, malnourished,
childless. Let me not fail you like a replaceable organ.
still useful elsewhere. A louse robs my mouth of tongue,
on my behalf when I part my lips. I do not think it lies. Primed
for darkness, I walk, listening.
One-time skulls and wing bones mute beneath my shoes.
What does not ossify, dusts. The piano can be kept
A native of California, Diana Khoi Nguyen is working on completing her first manuscript in Brooklyn, NY. She has poems forthcoming in Memorious and OmniVerse. For more information, visit her website at www.dianakhoinguyen.com.