An Untitled Poem by Qian //
the fourth of July and we are toddlers, straining to speak our first words together your tongue closes around my name like a stone fist and I take your name and tuck it away in my ribcage for safekeeping. your name, a muscle working in my father's cheek your name, a wounded animal your name, a rosary I hold it in my palms and look at you This. This is all I've ever wanted to give you. This holy desire your name, a grenade.














