Timothy Liu Poems

 

 

 

Transilient

 

To catch your face in waves

 

bejeweled by light flickering

off a ferry’s departing wake,

 

overtime workers returning

 

late where a Cuban fog

rolls across my tongue—

 

maduro smoke I’d be happy

 

to shotgun down your throat

even if you still can’t tell

 

the difference between

 

a V-cut or a punch, the ring

gauge or its length hardly

 

a lure where cockroaches

 

stray about my sandals—

such machinery sounding

 

its frantic nocturne over this

 

promenade reconstructed

by a skyline—pre-gentrified

 

eyesore loading docks

 

dismantled by weeds pushing

up through asphalt where

 

fishing boats had been

 

auctioned off—scorpions

scuttling about banana stalks

 

longshoremen no longer

 

have to unload—love’s squalor

shoehorned into visions

 

of barges pulling in, then out.

 

 

**

 

Timothy Liu is the author of six books of poems, most recently Of Thee I

Sing (Georgia, 2004) and For Dust Thou Art (Southern Illinois, 2005). He

lives in Manhattan.

 

 

 

Archived at http://lit.konundrum.com/poetry/liut_poems.php