we leave our names in hands
always letting go on purpose
Never answer So they fall a
little short and huddle closer
together Long for someone
to take them home Or even
just the thought of someone
till the moon forgets its own
and all that is left is this mist
trailing twine below our eyes
And before we can see again
they dry Husks withering in
autumn color Too lonely to
demand another Instead we
mine the echoes unearth the
dirtied leftovers Embers all
fearing rebirth And soon in
times when we stop painting
these names on shy eyes slip
our hands with nickel secrets
glued on fingertips Jerk our
words out of closing pockets
Home of an eraser language
spoken new as we fade away.
David Xiang currently studies at Harvard College in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He started writing poetry as a freshman in high school, after attending the Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop. In 2015, he was selected as a National Student Poet, America’s highest honor for youth poets. He gave his inaugural poetry reading at the White House at the invitation of former First Lady Michelle Obama, and has shared his experiences with poetry at high schools and conferences all over the nation. At Harvard, he has taken classes with Josh Bell and currently studies with Jorie Graham, and is on the poetry board at the Harvard Advocate. He has been recently published in the Cordite Poetry Review and the Bluffton Literary Journal.
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