Cathy Linh Che

I survived sheets of rain
under the thatched eaves
of a stranger’s house.

For months, heartbreak
has been tearing
blue notes from me.

When the tide drains,
I crawl into a body
that feels most contained.

Boat which I repaired
in daylight plugging the holes.
Boat I lie inside as I sleep.

I remember gnawing
on your neck
like a careful wolf.

Eros visiting the shatter
of my dreams. Today,
I decided to court

my own happiness.
To be whole, it is enough
to exist.

I am not even a poet:
I can only think
and feel and see.