New Land

we keep our eyes ahead,
sand chips at our blistered
feet swollen the size of boulders.
we curl our toes, and keep trudging.
I imagine the city we left,
the city burned bare bones:
a child rubs crumbled concrete
into his wounds. his ribs poking
through skin with every breath.
a dog, what remains of its fur,
charcoaled, feasts on a broken
bone, fresh marrow spilling out.
I remember passing a man
who looked too much like Ba,
burnt hair, face ruined, tattered
camouflage, his fingers clinging
to a crumbled photo of two children,
laying like a question forever unanswered.

still, we keep our eyes ahead, never behind
Ma hands me a bottle of expired milk,
foaming at the top, canned peaches smell
of a place that no longer exists. the moon
fills our irises, floating like a distant island
we’ll never reach.

By Spencer Chang

Biography:

Spencer Chang is a writer based in Taipei. He is also a dancer and freelance web designer in his free time.