By Ocean Vuong
For Tamir Rice
yellow plastic
black sea
eye-shaped shard
on a darkened map
no shores now
to arrive — or
depart
no wind but
this waiting which
moves you
as if the seconds
could be entered
& never left
toy boat — oarless
each wave
a green lamp
outlasted
toy boat
toy leaf dropped
from a toy tree
waiting
waiting
as if the sp-
arrows
thinning above you
are not
already pierced
by their own names
Source: Poetry (April 2016)
Poet Bio

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I will tell you why she rarely ventured from her house.
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One day she took the train to Boston,
made her way to the darkened room,
put her name down in cursive script
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