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By Wendy Xu

Distrust this season breeds

in me whole

blue worlds, am second

to leafy nouns,

pinned back darkening lip

of the night,

untrustworthy sidewalk glazed

and sleeping there,

peachy trees, a line drawn from one

brow of a star down

and planted, each pillow

little shimmer, little wilt startled

from out the arranging field

moonlit pale behind

no foxes, in me finding the fragrant

new crisis, not dead still

where I love you in feast

and pledge, worlds rolling first

on crookedly

and on.


Source: Poetry (December 2014)

Poet Bio

Born in China, poet Wendy Xu was raised in New York and Iowa. She attended the University of Iowa, where she earned a BA, and she completed graduate studies at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Founding coordinator of the Younger American Poets Reading Series, Xu co-coordinates the jubilat/Jones reading series and has served as an editor for iO: A Journal of New American Poetry and iO Books. She lives in Brooklyn. Xu frequently uses line breaks as sharp hinges in single-stanza, meditative poems that embrace the ephemeral nature of intimacy.

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