Our Drunk Life
A drunkard dances, and goes down,
holding your wounded wrist,
itchy in every touch, but you tolerate
his scorching breath when kissed.
I bet you hate him, for he staggers
at night when golden wine glitters on
his slovenly moustache and yeah
his annoyed balderdash comments on politics--
endless curses of his broken life and yours as well.
For a moment you almost slam the door, yet his eyes are
drunken and smile like an azure sky. Hesitating,
he vomits on the door, lolls against the wall
and refuses to walk without your help.
I bet you hate alcohol for its bitterness in life.
You have seen broken bottles and men thrilled, blushed faces
like three-year-olds, celebrating their dumbness
and unceasing life within lies.
Yet everyone should take a drink after sunset,
bring an empty heart to be toasted
when crowds swirl like snakes and alcohol makes mistakes.
A dizzy pub just a place for lost lambs.
Everyone should take a shot at
pouring Vienna beer. Saturated goblet reflecting honey lip
may be not enough, yeah,
two more glasses before sunrise please.
Your eyes polished by a kiss from wine, now
you stagger like your man. A waltz you crave
for long, hold my hand and dance, go down to
curse the world without concern, move your body
in random rhythm and sweat
sweat like a man clasps his drink on streets
talking nonsense and leaning entirely on someoneÕs arm.
How about Pinot Gris?
Take more and more and you will be finer
Cause thatÕs how we celebrate our life when we are drunk.
We, once united as finger and toe
break down and boom like bomb
our entanglement never end properly
Fierce fight, we flame, growing like
splendid firework to marvel
Yet our blood evaporated like dragonfliesÕ
wings under damp December stick
in sheet of ice and tear into two, two
malformed fossils hidden in earth core
you or me who cause or more ?
It doesnÕt matter
when we both bleed in two
Two fools flutter with misshapen alas
wild bites in love our blood
mingle, or bone or tongue
We fight and love and bite.
Gardenias on Mounds
my ancestorsÕ tattered wedding dress
stops whining in grave nights
when I wake up at four
checking damp garret, sunlit dew
drops from musty window
crimson spots sprayed in a circle
twenty inches in radian
dark-violet spoors left
by manÕs mild abuse
rippled and sparkled
on wooden floor
I wended through gray marble path
gardenias perished for centuries
her breath fainted in my grandfatherÕs bulky fists
my uncleÕs rusty hammer to nail her on gallows
staggering in noxious brandy
blue-green bruises weeping on her wrists
and held breath
for the brave blossom in dim
gardenias are blooming
brighter than haughty boasters
their jaunty handlebar moustache
shave and shiver
our jubilant parade
I wend through the lemongrass
gardenias spinning in raspberry sundown
as if terrible torture never stands over morning mist
I put glittering marguerites
on simple mounds
slumber whispers to withered fleshes
we muse in mellow breeze
sigh flutters with unrestricted brook
© Shi Yang Su
Bio: Shi Yang Su is an international student who is currently studying Creative Writing. She loves reading poems and would like to share her work with others.