from “Đổi Mới”

Each of them described the brother's death in different terms, though the fact of his absence interrupted them indiscriminately. Do they know how he found his life, if from inside it looked like a cage shaped exactly like his body, except two sizes too big, growing as he grew, condensing when he made himself small, and no matter what he did, he couldn't dissolve its borders, not even while he slept. I don't think it let him sleep. At night, fighting sleep, I stay up as if hoping I'll catch wind of something. Tonight, or years ago, a wolf chased a deer past the cabin's front door and out onto lake ice where fate met each discriminately. Borders dissolved, but which one, between predator and prey, or stage and props? Anywhere there is a hole there are traces of arrival and departure. The wind becomes a palimpsest of the creature no longer here, and a song, or is it a cry, emerging from nowhere, on its way to nowhere, passes through until the textures of the earth absorb it entirely. Sound: a body's way of making itself known. Silence: a way of knowing.

Credit

Copyright © 2021 by Diana Khoi Nguyen. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 13, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.

About this Poem

“‘Đổi Mới’refers to the 1986 economic reforms initiated in Vietnam, reforms which enabled the economic transformation of Vietnam in the 1990s. More generally, the phrase means ‘renew’ or ‘innovate,’ and personally, I understand the phrase as new time/phase/era. Within a diaspora, displacement and death are two moments of several which usher in a new phase of being for both the collective and individual units of the family. Of course, the family, the diaspora, and time—are part of a larger ecology of life on planet earth.”
Diana Khoi Nguyen