Soundzine

Sun 13

        Here,
       the third-world kids
             with first place smiles
             and second-class chocolate
                 faces (and no chocolate),
                 toil the tobacco crop  –
                 hands glistening
                 in an inky tar.

                          There,
she throttles a slim joint,
      exchanging life for FDA
      approved nicotine, tapping
                   ashes at the morning
           traffic of taxis, reflections
           and aimless men, wishing
           she were somewhere else.

1945

there was a time   he bragged
immortality       to be inherent
to his people         that hubris

was insignificant        (for god
was dead)       that this world
did not belong      to a people
they hated

our purpose was    to swallow
dis-ease           let them cast
lots for our wives           heat
his chimney with             our
bodies in the winter          to
make him think      they were
somehow better

i could go    on about horrors
we endured               the life
and how      our skin became
loose          around the heart

instead     i will let the weeds
curling at my toes      slowly
scratch away     at his grave

Jonathan Lu is currently a pharmacy student, classical violinist, and part-time dilettante, who writes on the back of his hands while wandering through Toronto.