life again

I.

Now and again, I know January

something to do with being brave.

Like the silence, I am quick to find

my own neck.

II.

The last time I ran this hard,

was before language. I could not

speak my mother tongue without

losing my mother.

III.

Call forth rosemary. I bruise it

to release scent. I die

a lot if I can.

III.

This is goodbye, it is well-lit.

The rope, tongueless, glows

like a foot shaking loose

in the dark.

II.

A child lash-neck and daffodil-

like, so quiet. He steps out

his bedroom hands full

of harp-song.

I.

Long ago, I woke holding a knife,

People told me it meant I could not live.

It is reminding me, I lived.

Tianyi is a poet based in New York, from Hong Kong. His work is forthcoming in The New England Review and can be found in The Margins, Tupelo Quarterly and elsewhere. He is an alumnus of the Brooklyn Poets Mentorship Program.