By Audrey Wu
folded meticulously they leave dimly lit handprint and amber waves turn crimson with the sunrise how does a sun dare to draw its rosy curtain upon a scene where her children lie prostrate when their chests once rose upon her appearance we forget a sun once lit up their faces scintillating until constellations blew out their eyes and in a few months we forget those faces just as we forget the honeyed taste of sun our souls are not nuclear our hearts aren’t meant to cover with clouts we were made for golden dandelions and skies bluer than the grays of bodies molting into soil our landscapes are littered and loitered our cranes have become plastic our pooled-up hope crumpling with promises of “we’ll see each other again.” folded meticulously they leave dimly lit handprints
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