Widow

God,

You carry this device in my chest called   love

&  I – a child of  infertility – choose you to  sterilize 

the left testicle  of  intimacy    While sitting on the right

(hand, of course)  I grope  the goose   which is your ghost

Not holy   not resurrection   not an assault on the Nature

of Divinity     :::: God,    you once castrated   my belief in you

It    was February   or March   in a sublet in   Brooklyn

&  I (still) respond  by emasculating  your vision of   toilet paper 

Hand sanitizer         hands clapping into a Berlin night 

Let me   be clear :    the door is not  you,  the skylight isn’t me gazing 

down  at you,  the window  isn’t your widow   

I never view you as anybody’s hard husband                Never wed    for now

Let me be empty  – the Indo-European root signifier for widow

Let me bereft 

Let me leave your bed side while  I neuter  you out of my galaxy 

Image:Avenue des Pierres Rouges 20 Yabby CC 2.0

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Vi Khi Nao

VI KHI NAO is the author of four poetry collections: "Human Tetris" (11:11 Press, 2019), "Sheep Machine" (Black Sun Lit, 2018), "Umbilical Hospital" (Press 1913, 2017), "The Old Philosopher" (winner of the Nightboat Prize for 2014) and of the short stories collection, A Brief Alphabet of Torture (winner of the 2016 FC2's Ronald Sukenick Innovative Fiction Prize), and the novel, Fish in Exile (Coffee House Press, 2016). Her work includes poetry, fiction, film and cross-genre collaboration. She was the Fall 2019 fellow at the Black Mountain Institute. vikhinao.com

Latest posts by Vi Khi Nao (see all)

• T E A R S - May 16, 2020
• Widow - March 31, 2020
• SALIVA TERRACADE - January 7, 2017