Poems
Spring Comes and I Finally Throw Out the Last Flowers I Bought You
春天来了，我终于扔掉了为你买的最后一束花
April 20, 2026
Condemned to the kitchen counter
radiated by the heartless
Louisiana sun, so dry they bloomed
into a fire hazard. It’s been weeks.
It’s been months. It’s been seasons.
Even the ants who army crawl
under the window after rain
have stopped exploring those morbid petals.
Even the trashcan gags
as they crumble to dust in its maw.
它们被遗弃在厨房台面上，任由路易斯安那州无情的烈日炙烤，干枯到几乎要迸出火星。已经数周了。已经数月了。已经跨过好几个季节了。连雨后从窗缝列队爬进的蚂蚁，都不再探访那些病态的花瓣。当它们最终在垃圾桶口碎成齑粉时，连垃圾桶都发出了作呕的声响。
This is drawn from “We All Have Moons We Long to Return To.”
本文节选自《我们都有渴望重返的月亮》。