Daniel Liu

Elegy For Birthplaces

and the floodlights washes in

like moon-lured tides.

the astroturf below us grows greener

with the thumping of wings and

again and again, this soundtrack plays.

in the morning, we will search the craters

for a bloodless birth—all skin & no maker.

the bleachers, iron-born, will leave no reminder

that we were here. this dulcet caress of light,

a careful memory. we buried these two men

in the field. flying dirt and rigid names. because I

know little, I call these coffins homes until they

become houses again. let me tell you about the summer

the earth groaned under the thuds of our bare feet

and this vow to become soil became a vigil.

let me tell you how the ground opened up in the shape

of a throat, a mouth, a set of teeth, and how

we made our tongues gullible enough to believe it.

anato(my)

[Summer, a distant and clanging bang.]

June on our skin. /

salvaged scrap metal /

/ dotted with sweat .

[A father] remembers [his boy] by the

tag of his neck , the six-digit code behind

gears and rust.

This little engine of /

/ forgetting .

memory made of [tarnished        ]

[steel and copper pipes . ]

/ To call a machine

/ a machine .

[ Mechanical ]

[failure with human error . ]

Bio

Daniel Liu (he/him/他) is a Chinese-American writer, editor, and musician from Orlando, FL. His work appears or is forthcoming in Diode Poetry Journal, Kissing Dynamite, National Poetry Quarterly, and elsewhere. His work has been recognized by the National YoungArts Foundation, Bowseat Organization, and the Live Poets' Society of New Jersey. He founded and currently runs INKSOUNDS, an interdisciplinary arts gallery. His debut chapbook, COMRADE, is forthcoming from fifth wheel press. Find him online @danielliu_1 or at daniel-liu-card.co.