Guts, an excerpt
by Jane Wong
I enter a room.
A cat vomits as if to say
welcome home. Scattered
bones on the floor,
tiles of fur and fever:
welcome. Outside, the parks
are rinsed clean. Grass sprays
across my window.
This clean violence
for the Green and Livid.
·
Nothing I say leaves
this room. Not a foot,
not a single verb.
This room is meant
to be a cage to swing
sweetly in. Arm in
arm, slow scythe of
each doorway expanding
with each breath I hold in
until I can’t.
Remember, what you can’t
see can hurt you.
I will stay here,
getting fat in the eyes.
From OVERPOUR, published by Action Books. Copyright © 2016, Jane Wong.
Most Poetry will post a poem by a poet of color, selected by our members, each day through the month of July.