I want to cloud a cloud            to water water

to make something that already is        something more

 

I mean             most days I feel like

a chalk drawing            of the sun       

like a small attempt      at an improbable thing

 

Don’t worry

This poem is not          an act of war

although I must confess           to get here

I had to walk through              a cloud             and dissolve

 

*

 

The things I want to run from

keep coming back to me         

 

All the while the things I want to run to

keep lengthening          like the shadows                       of grief

 

I want to believe in a religion               of arms                       

holding me       through my unscrambling

 

*

 

The trees are shedding now

 

It makes me think        of what you’re supposed to do

when your ship is sinking         and you have a suitcase full

of silver           on board

 

If you zoom out far enough

I could be        a small cloud                of dust            

a loose leaf       flung from        a breathless tree

 

I want              the touchstone

of being loved                          always

 

*

 

I am thinking

of losing my limbs                   for the winter

 

All the while                you are a slick shape

paddling           softly               to shore

 

Where are you                          going?             

What is the meaning                            of war?

 

Who are we                 one river away from

becoming?

---

Shuang Ang was born and raised in Singapore. Her work has been published by the Asian-American Writers’ Workshop, the Rumpus, and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. She was a Breakout 8 Writers Prize Winner, and a runner-up in the Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize. Shuang is currently an MFA student at Sarah Lawrence College, where she is working on her debut collection.