Friday, April 12, 2024: Ann Huang's "The Exit"
© 2024 marie c lecrivain
Ann Huang is a multilingual Chinese American poet, filmmaker and visual artist based in Newport Beach, CA. Her poetry has been featured in Denver Quarterly, Alexandria Quarterly, Ruth Stone, FENCE, CONFRONTATION, Poets Choice, Adelaide Lit Mag, Contemporary Verse 2, Rue Scribe, The Blue Mountain Review, The Elevation Review, Helen Lit Mag, The Florida Review, The Bare Life Review, The Bookends Review, Tiny Seed Journal, The Write Launch and Verse Wrights. She's Ephemera's June 2023 Poet. Her latest manuscript Garden by The Glass Door is the Wisconsin Poetry Series' 2024 Semi-Finalist.
The Exit
Where are you going so precipitated?
Where are your destinations?
The other morning, I believe I saw you
shape-shifted in a lost dog’s skin
running in and out of the gate.
What are the odds of me making it up
to you?
All the lost time and tender words
suspended in the final moments
from my grief-angered tongue?
When are we going to listen to
Space Oddity together?
Where are we going to have our
lunch again?
What was the slim chance you
fought for me?
That you’d come back to me in the end?
What will be its form?
What will be our norms?
When will you be able to talk
to me ever again? Through the gate? The Exit
sign? From the void?
What is the aftermath of ‘The End is Near?’
What is the future tense for
“I will continue fighting for you?”
Am I going to receive any text soon that
says “Y(o)u there?”
© 2024 Ann Huang
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