Sueyeun Juliette Lee
Down the mountain (an afternoon appearance of man and mystery)
So difficult to breathe, inside. But the attitude can’t bend, needs to maintain the pose.
Beyond expression, this bright light gives out small fires, inspires children
to break families, start anew. Tender shiny and hold. Oh.
The sun, a wax fruit, gleams resonantly elsewhere. Stand up and look.
Chantilly fell from heaven when the afternoon froze. And together they lay
down after the day expired.
Oh father sky! Your wish was just this moment granted.
A pleat in time, I had the thought to stand still, pinned to the ground. You
later fell through the page.
Make way, make way for fleetest song! A static wave will capture not just
hearts and minds but less strenuous intent. Amen.
Present, presence. Effervescence.
A minute that never blinked, Raymond, Raymond, she thought and bowed. Disregard.
Line up just past this velvet rope. The major-key beginnings of empire rev.
Tell her the ending of this story, flute. I have arrived, arrived to say.
Yonder clouds do call. Doff your pessimism and climb in.
It’s okay if it hurts—residual pain in the twinkling light of holiness.
Hooded, static, sparkling becomes a melody that drifts. The clouds distort
into a counterfactual of gravitas, our patriotism.
Though hypnotized, we all still miss the annunciation. Huh America. |
