These are the days
by and published in Edition Three of Pomegranate
These are the days collapsing like shelves of coral,
pinching to a wound, a star, a whittled tip
of light. We make our homes out of pitch
and mortar, shavings from our mothers’ best soap,
songs someone hummed in the dark, rocking
and rocking. We are a million flung dewdrops
burning brighter than pinpricks, the cosmic handful
of dust that clamps the earth and will not
let go. Salt pebbles the underside of our tongues,
and all around landmarks are scattered
like broken moons. Our hands are for fashioning
stories, our mouths for unhooking desires.
Bridled in snow, we bear the lurch of seasons, return
to damp earth stricken with small fisted flowers.
And here after three days of rain
the day unclenches with such a tumble of light.
Sharon Wang
Sharon Wang is 21 years old and currently pursuing an MFA in poetry at Washington University in St. Louis.