—Snow in the air     you’ve seen a crust on the ceiling wood and never considered how I gather moisture when you step out of the shower     you don’t care that I respire as you breathe     for years you’ve washed your face gazed in the mirror shaved combed your hair rushed out while I who may grow an inch in a thousand years catch the tingling sunlight     you don’t understand how I can dive to a temperature of liquefied gas and warm back up absorb water start growing again without a scar     I can float numb in space be hit with cosmic rays then return to Earth and warm out of my sleep to respire again without a hiccup     you come and go while I stay gripped to pine and the sugar of existence runs through you runs through me you sliver if you just go go go     if you slowed you could discover that mosquitoes bat their wings six hundred times a second and before they mate synchronize their wings you could feel how they flicker with desire     I am flinging your words and if you absorb not blot my song you could learn  you are not alone in pain and grief though you’ve instilled pain and grief     you can urge the dare and thrill of bliss if and when you stop to look at a rock at a fence post but you cough only look yes look at me now because you are blink about to leave—

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ARTHUR SZE is a poet, translator, and editor. His eleventh book of poetry is The Glass Constellation: New and Collected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2021). Read More


Arthur Sze’s poem “Lichen Song” is reprinted by permission of the author.

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