Cadaverine Magazine

mangata   there’s a word in another language that means            the maternal sorrow reflected in the moon’s image   on dark water: mangata. i sift through stacks &     […]

Cindy Song

Cindy Song is a junior at Richard Montgomery High School in Rockville, Maryland. Her poetry and prose have been recognized by the National Poetry Quarterly, Reflections Program, Bethesda Magazine, and Hollins University, among others. When not writing, Cindy likes to draw and paint.

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This article was published by Helen Bowell on 09 May 2017, and is filed under News, Poetry.

Two Poems by Cindy Song

mangata

 

there’s a word in another language that means

           the maternal sorrow reflected in the moon’s image

 

on dark water: mangata. i sift through stacks &

           stacks of newspaper clippings to find your name

 

but the heavens are often callous with our hearts,

           stumbling mindlessly & throbbing beatlessly.

 

i wonder if our reflections are ever really ours,

           ever really the same when spinning or flipping

 

upside down rightside leftside, somersaulting across a

           shiny river, crawling along the sides of moving cars.

 

they are a life of their own—ripples in the lake make

           me think of time, ripples in blue fabric stretching

 

us open & stuffing us with loneliness until we are

           the teddy bears in our bedrooms, the discarded

 

reminders of a stop drop childhood. & this is where

           it all begins and ends: torn edges of your reflection

 

blur, toeing the ripples and gently rolling into mine.

 

 

 

Law of Fluidity

 

this is how time moves:

pill bottles rolling up wooden tables,

rain running down thin glass like

it’s chasing itself.

oranges on windowsills

casting shadows long & rounded,

breathing colors dark & sleepy like Death—

something sad / something fading.

look at the sun & see how it dips

below your line of sight,

withdrawing into itself like a

jaded turtle.

a whore caught dead in the middle

of a thunderstorm, rain going

pum pum pum.

nothing sadder / nothing more liberating

 

 

 

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