Blue Nguyen

a portrait: i learn how to forgive a bird

 i saw heaven three years ago
 almost / was 
                         it light? or the opposite of
 flight,
             the act of breath inward & out / is not dying / &
             is
             not quite living        either
 once, you asked me to cut 
             your hair                    with a
             pair of broken                      scissors
             on your bedroom     floor
             this is not a metaphor
             (but this, this i think 
             must have been love, too)
 on the days   you could not
 afford love / i 
             did your laundry and we ate
             wonderbread and peanut butter
 and jelly sandwiches / our stomachs
 were always              empty, 
 somehow
 my heart was                       always                       
 full, 
                         was yours? 


A PORTRAIT: I LEARN HOW TO FORGIVE A BIRD PART 2

 the fever is out 
grown by the day
 
            god 
is outgrown by your 
lover, the clock lights all
the rooms     love 
should not go, the
afternoon told me this
            is my home,
 
i sit close to god or
             to love
or to fever      on your
bedroom floor,
            half of our days are
            this: your hands
pulling me into the
sun, 
our eyes     &    our hands
make shapes             from the air
around           us
we drink up / enough for
our mouths to be full
but what about love?
 
nothing for a minute
but love.

Blue (fka Jude) Nguyen is a queer Vietnamese poet based out of Boston, MA. They are an Aries/Taurus cusp in love with liminal spaces. They have been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology and Best New Poets Anthology. Their poetry can be found at The Mantle Poetry and Glass: A Journal of Poetry. You can find them on Instagram: @blue.ngu and on Twitter: @queerqhost.

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