Tuesday, July 15, 2014

                                                                Không có gì bằng cơm với cá...


Don't you know? A woman's love

            neglects pride

                                    the way fire

neglects the cries

of what it burns. My son,

                                     even tomorrow

you will have today.


                        There are men who touch breasts

                                                            like the tops of skulls.

                        There are men who carry dreams

over mountains, the dead

                                    on their backs.

                        But only a mother can walk

                                                with the weight of a second

beating heart.

                                    Stupid boy.

            You can get lost in every book

but you can never forget yourself

                        the way god forgets his hands.


                        When they ask you

where you're from,

                                    tell them your name

was fleshed from the toothless mouth

                                                            of a war-woman.

That you were not born—

                                    but crawled, headfirst—

                        into the hunger of dogs.

My son, the body is a blade

                                    that sharpens

            by cutting. 

Tuesday, July 15, 2014