about the war's question
Yucheng Tao
I have swallowed the ice upon the road.
My stomach is a forest
reflected in a mirror;
no spinning bullets.
My skin
is a vine,
twisting around the sweet wounds
beloved by flies.
Covered in dust from fingertips,
with a flash brighter than the sun.
My curled body is able to see
children collapsed sideways
in the land of ice:
ballet shoes no longer turn.
I swallow the light
of a flash grenade exploding,
trying to borrow
the prophecy of the god of fire.
Death is the child
of the god of fire,
and we shall all return home.
Yucheng Tao is a Chinese poet and the editor of The Argyle Literary Magazine. He serves as a reader for Palette Poetry. His work has appeared in Strange Horizons, North Dakota Quarterly, Wild Court, Ink Sweat & Tears and NonBinary Review, and is forthcoming in Black Fox, I-70 Review, and New Plains. He has twice received an honorary award from the Dark Poet Club Contest.