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Poem of the Week: A Little Closer to the Edge by Ocean Vuong

By Ocean Vuong  

Young enough to believe nothing

will change them, they step, hand-in-hand,


into the bomb crater. The night full

of  black teeth. His faux Rolex, weeks


from shattering against her cheek, now dims

like a miniature moon behind her hair.


In this version the snake is headless – stilled

like a cord unraveled from the lovers’ ankles.


He lifts her white cotton skirt, revealing

another hour. His hand. His hands. The syllables


inside them. O father, O foreshadow, press

into her – as the field shreds itself


with cricket cries. Show me how ruin makes a home

out of  hip bones. O mother,


O minutehand, teach me

how to hold a man the way thirst


holds water. Let every river envy

our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body


like a season. Where apples thunder

the earth with red hooves. & I am your son.


Contributor’s Note: OCEAN VUONG will join poet Sherry Robbins, the musician/producer Space Cubs (Suzanne Bonifacio), and audio-visual media and installation artist Projex (Keith Harrington) in this month’s Silo City Reading Series event at 7 p.m. Saturday at Marine A Elevator, Silo City Row, Ohio and Childs streets. He is the author of the acclaimed first full-length collection “Night Sky With Exit Wounds” (Copper Canyon Press, 2016) and the chapbooks: “No” (YesYes Books, 2013) and “Burnings” (Sibling Rivalry Press, 2010). A 2016 Whiting Award winner, a 2014 Ruth Lilly fellow, he has received honors and awards from Poets House, the Elizabeth George Foundation, the Civitella Ranieri Foundation, the Saltonstall Foundation for the Arts, the Academy of American Poets (which awarded him the 2012 Stanley Kunitz Prize for Younger Poets), and a 2014 Pushcart Prize. Born in Saigon, Vietnam, he currently resides in New York City. This poem originally appeared in the April 2016 issue of Poetry magazine.

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