Trailhead, Hong Kong
By Talia Pinzari
The Chinese uncle says
we turn right at the fork, us folk
following in a line, social creatures
mazing through modernity. This
is the only place we are going
in the moment of now.
You say you sink
in the celestial violence
of my eyes—blue like trailhead
butterflies alighting my breast.
How is it
that their bodily landing
feels lighter than the weight
of your absence? Tomorrow,
I’ll have to uninvite loneliness
to dinner—what with daisies
sprouting from the split ends
of my newborn silver hair, my laugh
lines all bringing something
to the table.Talia Pinzari is a poet and public relations director from New England living in Austin, Texas. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Salamander Magazine, EVENT Magazine, SWWIM Every Day, The Shore Poetry, The Museum of Americana, Berkeley Poetry Review, Lily Poetry Review, Pangyrus, The Indianapolis Review, Ibbetson Street, Mulberry Literary, and elsewhere.
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