From the Taiwan Cypress in Alishan by Jennifer Huang
we can’t help
sometimes they walk
after dusk searching
half of us have disappeared
our fragrance is that of god
we wail for the lost
axed down for profit
their knives scratch our surface
beneath our shadows
for something we
dissipate and become
Today’s poem originally appeared in the May 2021 issue of Poetry. In addition to their writing, Huang is also the Independent Publicist at The Shipman Agency. Their debut collection, Return Flight: Poems, is due to be released on January 18th, 2022 by Milkweed Editions.
Update: I had some issues getting today’s poem to format in the way the author originally intended, so I am including a screenshot below of the way the text is supposed to appear on screen. It is taken from the Poetry Foundation’s website.
Thanks as always for being a faithful reader of The Voracious Bibliophile. If you like what you see, please like, comment, follow, and subscribe to my email list to get notified of new posts as soon as they drop. You can also email me at email@example.com or catch me on Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, and Pinterest @voraciousbiblog. Keep reading the world, one page (or pixel) at a time.