Night Sky with Exit Wounds

by Ocean Vuong

Don’t you know? A mother’s love neglects pride the way fire neglects the cries of what it burns. My son, even tomorrow you will have today. Don’t you know?

But only a mother can walk with the weight of a second beating heart.

My mother said I could be anything I wanted—but I chose to live.

Always another hour to kill—only to beg some god to give it back.

From men, I learned to praise the thickness of walls. From women, I learned to praise.

Sometimes I ask for too much just to feel my mouth overflow.

Because my hands were always brief & dim as my father’s.

Don’t worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets.

Here’s the house with childhood whittled down to a single red trip wire. Don’t worry. Just call it horizon & you’ll never reach it.