earnest died in ennui

Clark Wu, United States

all you want is to groan silver. tonight, i was reminded of that time when you and i were walking

through central park and that squirrel slipped off the branch and snapped his leg and ate

the grit of the path. that night we did not sleep soundly. i am not particularly disciplined.

in another life the other me would wake up at six every morning and turn on the radio to

npr and floss and put on lotion. he would cook eggs over easy and bacon and you would

ask him to bring food to bed even though between the two of you you’re the neat freak.

he would rest his head in your lap and sink in the scent of laundry and skin. he would

promise to practice being open. he would fold love into some chapbook or playlist or

some pebble that he carries with him. i carry with me absurd headlines too. rex mcguinn

said that frogs are dying. others said fish fly, fish falling. the crier says the magician is

coming to town. the magician is the best resource, your best friend that is a happy duty.

the magician is a mathematician with a painful and not particularly disciplined

appearance and maybe that is why i find great joy in living in the careful cleave of their

showmanship. this is to say that i miss feeling infinite. infinity on the riemann sphere is

just a point. or having the time to care about many tiny uncountable infinities, having the

time to forgive a friend when they send a parcel of water in the mail. to think that they

spent all that time molding and shaping the water and wrapping it makes me mad. i miss

feeling wholly comfortable with you when i think about resting my head in your lap in

another life.

Clark Wu is a Chinese American poet now studying at Yale University. He is a contributing writer to The New Journal, and a poet for Hippo Magazine. In his free time, Clark loves to sing, play board games, and hate-watch movies.