By Lê Vĩnh Tài, translated by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
this is not a poem
1.
it’s your eyes
your smile
the poem
a moment of madness
as I recall
the moment you flew away
like smoke abandoned me
2.
this is not a poem
it’s etched in memories
the faces of our friends
in chalk
3.
this is not a poem
it’s a cardboard box
forgotten at the back of the house. You
stared at it from your bedroom window
saw it letting go
of a leaf
you suspect
it’s not a leaf because the protruding lines
were like veins
it flew, letting go and shedding everything
it was almost naked
and you’re left with
nothing…
so, you retreated
undid your buttons, slowly loosened
your hair, exhaled
your veins protruding as twisted as the leaves
all you needed to do was…
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The Reluctant Poet 