Poetry from The Literary Review



Between the Moon and Seaweeds

Phan Nhien Hao


The man leans a summer ladder
on a moon approaching the eclipse
A car discharges blue smoke
into the daily exhaustion
And biological concerns
gape like fish eyes under ice in the ship's hold
without enough oil to reach the horizon where a rainbow bends down
        to drink sea water.

The man and the moon sink down to sleep with seaweeds
on a mist-less morning without milk and eggs
without anyone wearing a bronze name tag to open the hotel door
        ringing a bell
August slowly moves South
on a road redolent of cow manure with threeway intersections
pouncing from abandoned houses
From the picture frame with broken glass there remains
a child's smile. Between the Moon and Seaweeds


Translated from the Vietnamese
by Linh Dinh