LEO HWANG
Long Division

All day long I leave a gasp of space
​for you to inhabit as I exhale.
Fundamentally unsound, the air breaks with my cry,
which is nearly inaudible.
Emotion inscrutable, I move invisible,
to my own self even,
inhabiting small spaces, reading blank pages,
becoming something else.
 
When ever someone asks
what is the thing that I miss,
I say it is the taste of fruit
the juices running free
staining my neck and chest.
It is the thing of love
that is too sweet,
chills my teeth, stains my fingers
the smell of a thing broken open
and dispersed into the air
microcosmic confetti.
 
I think if someone where to take me in her hands
and pull apart my chest,
I might smell like that,
and float through the air
like a fog passing a street lamp,
long division.

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  • Music
  • Vimana
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  • Leo's CV
  • The Pandemic Blog
  • Contact