we crawl over the remnants of day,
hands clumsily chasing out
the very last crevices of sunlight.
grazing our fingertips across the sun-flecked sky,
we take the place of silver linings until they become
shadowy grief—an ethereal sort of darkness. our work is done.
the laws of physics nudge us gently
and we fall from the sky to kiss the rain-sodden ground,
lungs drinking petrichor for dinner.
BIOGRAPHY:
Sena Chang (she/her) is a half-Korean, half-Japanese intersectional activist and poet residing in Japan. Aside from reading and writing, she enjoys admiring Hannah Arendt and searching for new types of dark chocolate in her free time. Her works have been published in Next Generation Politics, and Ayaskala Literary Magazine, amongst others, and she firmly believes in the inexplicable magic of words.
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