Ariel Wang

Photograph by Thania Martinez

Tomorrow we wake in the dark
A few feet away from yesterday’s
Pools of blood. My mother tells me to get ready
Like I’m in the military—packing cubes, and white, and grey,
No smiles. You’ll follow my instincts and doubt them,
But no one likes listening to a 911 call.

And tomorrow we leave at dawn,
The sun opens up the sky, forces
Our eyes open to our determination
And to the future full of exactly what you planned,
Follow each other and hide in the shadows
But at this point, does it matter if we’re seen?

And tomorrow we will live
Until the sun burns right above us
At least, that’s the goal.
Sleepwalk through the desert onto the throne.
She should have died hereafter
There would have been a time for such a word.