At the same time

By: David Xiang



we leave our names in hands
always letting go on purpose
Never answer  So they fall a
little short and huddle closer

together  Long for someone
to take them home  Or even
just the thought of someone
till the moon forgets its own

and all that is left is this mist
trailing twine below our eyes
And before we can see again
they dry  Husks withering in

autumn color  Too lonely to
demand another  Instead we
mine the echoes unearth the
dirtied leftovers  Embers all

fearing rebirth  And soon in
times when we stop painting
these names on shy eyes slip
our hands with nickel secrets

glued on fingertips  Jerk our
words out of closing pockets
Home of an eraser language
spoken new as we fade away.



David Xiang is poet currently studying History and Science at Harvard College. At Harvard, he has taken workshops from poets such as Jorie Graham and Josh Bell. He also currently serves on the poetry board at The Harvard Advocate, the oldest continuously published college art and literary magazine in the United States.

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