Victoria Chang

I was supposed to
return to the fields daily.
I haven’t been there
since birth. On some nights, I smell
smoke that I think is
the field, but when I follow
it, there is just a
clothesline with half my life clipped
on it, drying in the sun.

Youth stretches over
everything, can be used once.
Then we turn it inside out.

Sometimes the language
we have is inadequate.
On rainy days, people leave
yellow boots on the
porch. The egret takes off its
yellow feet and steals the boots.

From the Ferris wheel,
we can see all the lovers.
We are seduced while turning.