Breath for Metal
This a story
I’ve kept in soft
orange inside
my steel body. I’ve wanted
to wait until I’ve
cooled to hum, until
my touch wouldn’t burn.
I’ve practiced to gentle
not to be odd. To remember
me a calm line transmitting not artificial
sugar smile melts a rainy spring I do not want
to feel a tug you wait again for what’s
dissolved into scent for this week.
Copyright © 2023 by Ching-In Chen. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on September 5, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.
“This poem was written as part of a daily practice to consider the breath amidst and against a time of fear and anxiety when our rights and humanity are being denied in many forms. While shut in during the pandemic, I began a practice of breathing as much as possible while sending my words out into the world. I return to the breath in the struggle to feel more spaciousness within my body, to remind myself to stay flexible yet steadfast in the present moment, to unfurl and stretch into whatever the day may bring.”
—Ching-In Chen
Ching-In Chen
Ching-In Chen is the author of recombinant (Kelsey Street Press, 2017) and The Heart’s Traffic (Arktoi/Red Hen Press, 2009). A Callaloo, Kundiman, and Lambda Fellow, they have been awarded residencies and fellowships from the Fine Arts Work Center, the Millay Colony for the Arts, the Norman Mailer Center, the Vermont Studio Center, and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, among others.