the sky’s full contents
There is a lullaby everybody enters,
a red desert cage where
wooden coffee grinder swims lonely
under the sky.
Next to the ignition,
a white sign buried in the horizon
near muted ground reads,
if Iowa is the future,
we are eager to work today,
My starlings forget the empty living,
their plain stockings.
I plumb my shoulders into the readymade
enemy of yellow juice cartons.
Did you know I hunger for salt?
Everybody’s glistened building rejects my closed moon.
Everybody spits out those blue liquid full bodies,
schooled by the car’s broken directional.
is the author of The Heart’s Traffic, a novel-in-poems chronicling the life of an immigrant girl haunted by the death of her best friend (Arktoi Books/Red Hen Press, 2009). Daughter of Chinese immigrants and a Kundiman Fellow, Ching-In has recently published poetry in Fifth Wednesday Journal, OCHO, Iron Horse Literary Review and Water~Stone Review.