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Two Poems

By Meg Kaizu

The two poems below appear as a part of a series featuring fellows in the New York Foundation for the Arts Immigrant Artist Mentoring Program. Read Meg Kaizu’s essay about her relationship with language here


The blood-warm wind blows:
Whistles of demons in our nest

Tide rises
With a faint silver moon
Waves collide
In the black water

We peck at and pull out each other’s feathers;

Echo & mirror one another
To find ourselves
In each other’s shadows

Stars’ carrions in the dark

Into the dead of night, I take flight.

In my absence

Words I engraved in your heart,
Line by line,
Drain in your veins

You keep looking out the window,

Await the pecking sound
Of my beak

At your windowpane.

The pain we hold onto, hovers inside
Till the wounds inflame.

I pin your feathers on my wall,

Write to remind you:
You don’t need my wings
To uncover your own beauty.

Silence separates & binds us;

Come and seize me
In the sun where stars fuse

I clasp your hand
In spring snow,
Frozen rain,
In the depth of solitude.

In wind
Feathers rise up

Fever knows no extremities,

Infects, penetrates, cures,

Remedies our maladies



Did you recognize me
That day?

Through the window
In the yellow sunlight
I watched you

When the sky was gray
With red and purple
At the edge
The wind turned pages

Through the glass
A pretty distortion slipped
In the rain
Images multiplied
On its surface

Did you recognize me?

A picture hung on the wall
Thin and frail handwriting
In the mirror you turned

I blended into the surroundings,
Hid among shadows
When the wind cooled down
The dust settled

Did you hear me in the rain?


Read Meg Kaizu’s essay “Writing behind Language”

Published Dec 1, 2017   Copyright 2017 Meg Kaizu

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