‘Saoirse’ by Hal Y. Zhang

The thing that runs through you.
I have threaded my needle also to
lend my uncritical eye. Is it piety

the way you mumble and the languid
rushes through like floss. The marks that
disappear overnight. The salt seekers

I have seen by the hills, puppet limbs
from the curing of daily grind kept in
perpetual motion. To be dry

is to be made whole. To be light
is to be made clean. I think
it is the remonstrance of longing.

From issue #9: autumn/winter 2019 

About the Author
Hal Y. Zhang starts the day with Earl Grey, ends it with jasmine, and types furiously in between. She writes at halyzhang.com, and her debut poetry chapbook AMNESIA will be published by the Newfound Emerging Poets Series.