• Heung Aiden

3 A.M

I went out to the balcony for the stars; in the depth of the winter neons of a belated new year flickered at the street corner, like a distinguished corpse, tossing down shadows too deep even for the light.

No men at this hour, too early for ramblings about tomorrow and too late for the regret of a wasted past to come in after 30 years. Better to sleep and have a bad dream. The air had put ice on the lock.

Down on the square, a student had ripped himself in half; One part on the eastern sky like a red flag soliciting the sunrise; and the other stood vigilant in the city, lost to a rally of gunshots. Silence hovered like doves above the vehicles charging towards him and settled on the newspaper, as if it were a necessary testimony.

3 am, I searched the sky for witness— No moon, few stars.

Published on Cha:An Asian Literary Journal

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 © 2019 by Aiden Heung