Poem: Dead End in December

By Bryan Thao Worra

When you leave me, don’t think
You’ve truly gone.
You’re fastened to too many gluons
And neurons, anchored to this gray
Beneath bone between wood and wave.
Don’t believe you’re some seagull.
You haven’t wings.
Sitting by the seaside, these planks
Of ancient piers,
Let those ships sail on without you.
You try to live like everyone else.
You try to mind your business.
You get married, you have your children,
But you will return.
Whether from Y’ha-nthlei,
Antarctica, some Plutonian bay,
The call is deep, relentless,
Your true fate an old cobblestone
Set in place, long ago,
When we first began to howl together,
Pledging faith from the same shadows.

Bryan Thao Worra’s poetry collection Demonstra will be released by Innsmouth Free Press in 2013.

About Bryan Thao Worra

Bryan Thao Worra is a Lao-American poet, short story writer, playwright and essayist. An NEA Fellow in literature, his work appears internationally in numerous anthologies, magazines and newspapers, including Bamboo Among the Oaks, Tales of the Unanticipated, Illumen, Astropoetica, Outsiders Within, Dark Wisdom, Journal of the Asian American Renaissance, and Mad Poets of Terra. He is the author of the speculative books of poetry, On the Other Side of the Eye and BARROW. You can visit him online at http://thaoworra.blogspot.com.

Bryan Thao WorraPoem: Dead End in December