It Was not Love I Sought

It was not loneliness
I sought when stepped out to the night, 
because this moon was tacked
at a wrong place,
because this street was hurled
onto other streets,
cobbled by frosty light. I hanged
about on street corners, could not
go to the other side—it glimmered,
almost like dawn.

It was not poetry
I sought when words cleft my lips.
I could not sing to the moon
and sink, netted into streets, netted
into morning and call it
hope, or love (funny words),
or ember. At least
an ember of it was still burning
somewhere,
working its ghost.

But again, it was not
what I sought.

ξ

Allegory

This world I know is grazed
with frost. Every day, I’m walking
on frozen grass toward the station,
feeling my warmth siphoned

away, my breath feeble as un-
answered prayers. All good people
are far away, distant as a fairytale.
Though I’ve been living in a shell,

I’m jealous of the river that clutches
a secret so firm, not even the sun
can crack open. But I have to warp
my face into a smile today, 

and board the train to a different story,
and return by night with the cheap
smell of where-I-have-been.
In the city of red dust, I move

like light on water. Man
only knows on it the battered skyline.

ξ

Aiden Heung (he/they) is a Chinese poet born in a Tibetan Autonomous Town, currently living in Shanghai. He holds an MA from Tongji University. His words appeared in The Australian Poetry Journal, The Missouri Review, The Cordite Poetry Review, Poet Lore, Cha, Parentheses, The Brooklyn Review, Southern Humanities Review, among other places. Read more about him at www.aidenheung.com. He can be found at twitter @aidenheung.