Unread Letters No. 15

Author | Margaret Siu

He nods his head and listens
to the inaudible rich deliciousness
of jazz, his remembrances-- Think

a rich fragrance of coffee shop cacao
for the poetry of piano and the
tintinnabulations of trumpets. Tapping

his own heartbeat to some
good ole’ Blue Eye and he hums
of flying to the moon.

But he’s disgruntled at the lack of romance
in the fast paces BaBump
of blaring dubstep and he wonders

where the times had flown
when they used actual instruments
to woo women off in foxtrots.

Friends?

So you called me a friend and
So we could be friends

But (I think) we tiptoed on the precipice of more
albeit, never fulfilling

Voice

At the sound of his voice:
he turned heads. Words spilled
quicksilver from his silvertongue,
though not clumsily, in a reminder
that the South bejeweled a kind of
rustic regality in voices and
his voice was bejeweled
in both speech and ink.
Irony, a sharp witted river
became his diction. And if
a Midas touch existed with
language, Lord, was he alive with it.

I always wondered what could I do
what could I give to such a liveliness

Like You

You said: there’s no one here like me
I said: people don’t like you?
You said: no, there’s no one like me

You told me: South Bend welcomes
People like you: cathedrals, mass
you crossing freckled fingers
from forehead to heart, a nod,
People like you

I’ve got news for someone--like you
God, I pray, and I pray every night
that somehow this won’t be
the last I see of
You, because there’s no one
No one who will ever be like you

Aftermath

A friend sat with me
on a park bench, watching me
spill memories from my lips. The
what if what if what ifs
and wistfulness of time, such
unfulfillment--my decision.
A smile cracks on her face:
“you were the only person
who ever imagined it was one sided”
It was as if I bit into a young persimmon,
Honeyed juices rushed, shifted into a coarseness
of hourglass sands and in that night
I shared the moon with
you, somewhere in South Bend
I took a hold of this earth we share
And exhaled what I remembered
--somewhere a hint of sweetness


About the Author | Margaret Siu is studying Plan II Honors at the University of Texas in Austin. She is a recipient of the Brown University Book Award, multiple Gold and Silver Keys from the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards for her art and poetry, and an University Interscholastic League Journalism 1st Place Award for her Features Story. Chen has also been published in the Critical Pass Review for her work. She is impassioned about the political climates of both the Sinosphere and the United States. Chen is an avid fan of Naomi Shihab Nye, Mong-Lan, and Lin Manuel Miranda--those who endeavor to narrate their cultures through verse.