Sono Contento

By Yi Jung Chen

Clomping around in the wooden clogs,
my eyes cast a glance at the Common schefflera on the balcony.
You used to perform a trick with it,
the petiole fallen unharmed within your palm.
Vexed by the bad smell of nicotine,
you brought it back as a gift for me.

Criticizing me for being prim and proper,
you gurgled at my frankness.
As traceless as the dew on its leaves,
your love for me vaporized and
passions receded at the shrinking of the tide.

You played possum while I was about to leave.
Putting a smiley sticker on the refrigerator,
the sprouting of trees in the photo
seemed to grin at my foolish attempt of
holding back my tears, once and for all.


Published on September 1st, 2022




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