Fleeing civilization, soaring so high

our wings scratch at heaven’s cheek.
With our minds bored by magazines
and depicted plans for fast escapes

my hand slithers beneath this blanket

I placed a cricket
in a jar

and hid it on
the mountain.

No one could hear
that cricket sing

and after some hours
I forgot

it was ever there.

Yesterday while I was burying
my lies behind the flowers

I glimpsed a squirrel upon a fence.
He asked me why I must bury lies
when the truth shall set me free.

I informed him that they

My dear Vietnam,
when I left you I could not speak
for I would have sung you my farewells
as that ship fled your burning shores.
You do not know my face

for there are many smiles who shimmer

Like a wind time passes us,
combing the prairies to sift
the leaves whose sketches
cling into the grass.

The wind floods the forest
caressing each trunk as a mother