Fight or Cohabit the Monsters
by Danielle Wong
You search for help,
anyone, anything,
but nothing stops the darkness of the ocean
from entering your lungs, filling you up, pulling you to its floor.
You search for an approach.
something logical,
but earthquakes course through every muscle,
controlling your limbs, shaking you up, dragging you through lava.
Ocean’s twilight,
mixed with magmata,
make for treacherous monsters barnacling you
from top to bottom, from outside to in.
The desire to kill
monsters, that numb toothache,
refuses to leave, craves to infest you,
a cancer that laughs at how weak you have become.
Spent from fruitless
hunts, you lie alongside
the monsters, caress their sharp-edged weapons
that leave behind memories, reminders of what you cannot stop.
In All My Years, Here Lies Joy
by Danielle Wong
Skin, soft as down, on hands that held tight
first to pinkie, then finger, thumb,
was joy I held close. It grew clouded by
vacant eyes that saw what I could not
from the cacophony far from us.
Her gorilla strength bound her to me.
Separation and protection
were magnets too strong to ignore or fight.
Years passed as we grew, a trellised vine
in summer. I learned where lies my true joy.
That twinkle in her eyes, the shy smile
she tries to hide, her bird chirps drifting
from the other room, they wash over me
like gentle breezes on hot summer days
and sun showers after weeks of scorching heat.