Cleave poem: In memoriam Saigon
2009 August 13
| The setting sun penetrates my skin | like the memories of Kieu |
| branding it a deeper hue than | under a heavy moon, |
| the poems | the shadows of relatives are |
| buried by tyrants | lost ghosts, veiled faces |
| empty of all but curses | as grey as tombstones, |
| not like me with all my | wailing, with |
| tattered oriental | flags of mourning, |
| patterns, messages, | headbands, symbols worn like |
| old embroidered dragons, gold | emblems of Vietnam |
| on blood red silk | buried as deep as Saigon. |
I’m fascinated by the Cleave Poem concept. Thanks for the article and the great poem(s)! I’ll definitely be back to read some more . . .