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  • Heung Aiden

November, 2018

Updated: Jun 6, 2019

The sad blue sky’s clear dust gropes its way down

toward the city,

The asphalt roads glimmer like ice.

Red lights dim, like eyes deprived of sleep,

trying to understand the great mystery of the morning.

An old man stands at an empty phone booth,

looking at his map

on which a thousand places are marked,

with no names.

His walking stick dangles on his arm,

a compass uncertain of the south, where

the sun throws a shadow.

Soot-colored silence,

a black cat,

jumps into an open window, the curtain tied back and knotted.

An army of houses stand vigil on the first day

of a lunar winter


*published in Alluvium:The Literary Shanghai Journal 2018

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 © 2019 by Aiden Heung