Ocean Vuong

Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.

To be or not to be. That is the question. A question, yes, but not a choice.

Your name changed when touched
by gravity.

Silly me. I thought love was real
& the body imaginary.

Maybe we pray on our knees because god
only listens when we’re this close
to the devil.

They say the sky is blue
but I know it’s black seen through too much distance

A dented piano
where rain, collected
from the night, reflects
a blue sky fallen
into the side of a horse.

Puddle of sky
on earth. As if to look down
on the dead is to look up
at my own face, trampled
by music

If I close my eyes
I’m inside the piano again
& only. If I close my eyes
no one can hurt me.

Torso of Air
Suppose you do change your life.
& the body is more than
a portion of night—sealed
with bruises. Suppose you woke
& found your shadow replaced
by a black wolf. The boy, beautiful
& gone. So you take the knife to the wall
instead. You carve & carve
until a coin of light appears
& you get to look in, at last,
on happiness. The eye
staring back from the other side—
waiting