Tonight I moved between three beds
like I was sailing on the Mekong
and whispered the beauty of the Tigris and Euphrates
under an endless moment
looking
under the left tit
I have a hole
and you fill it
with other men.
Notes of Tiger beer
on your body.
Alone,
crickets drone south of Laos.
Showers of cold air from Hanoi
the back gasps
the tight ass, an ink stain on the belly.
Sketch me a monochrome
flow chart
on fresh
potted flowers.
I’ll release roots at your feet,
I want to come to puke specks
of dust
in my crotch. Rest your hand
in my pants. Make it personal
Who abandons an illness in open sea?
This poem is translated from the Hebrew, and appears in The Truffle Eye, the 2013 debut collection of poems by Vaan Nguyen.