Animals: Two Poems by April Lim

Vein

If the sun shines on all the same, then let me bask.
I’ve used up every matchbox to light the ocean, trailed
a thousand rivers to and from. Did you know

when a river dies, the earth does not forget. It remembers
each depleted stream’s body like a keepsake. Buries them
away but never completely moves on. Even after a thousand 

years, the empty caskets remain. Submerged and waiting 
for the next big flood—when remnants of soul sinks down 
and fills its veins like it used to. 

My pharmacist once told me how gas station restrooms use blue 
lights to deter heroin addicts from finding their veins. Now in the 
reflection of fluorescence, it’s all I can think of. 

I loved once. Still remember her eyes. Orbs pulling me in as I listened to her tales—
The salt chasers, midnight dips, how lakehouse suburb kids have the best stuff.
I didn’t notice her gaze slipping away until I started to drown just to see her.

The velella leave their lives in the hands of the wind. Their bodies clumped
to mimic the arcs of waves, sailing until shorebreak. Turning into seafoam.
I’ve never walked a beach without seeing death. 

I Wear a Dress of Ocean

and the jellyfish become 
confused. What do fish
know of flying? More than

I know of currents and havens
uncrusted from valleys once
whirlpools. I know this much—

A school of minnow have no leader,
I feel them swish with every step, speckling
a shadow of stars upon the sleeping flounder.

The saltwater swallows all the sun whole—
plankton drift into an organza of light, trailing
the crash of silent waves, the wash of body and foam.

I unravel: an ocean of tulle, lace woven tsunami, 
train of coral sunsets. I drown in the gulfweed.

About April Lim

April Lim is a Chinese Cambodian American writer from Houston, TX. She has received fellowships and scholarships from Tin House, Kenyon Review Writers Workshop, The Watering Hole, Martha's Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing, and elsewhere. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Palette Poetry, Sweet: A Literary Confection, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at Oklahoma State University where she is an Editorial Assistant for the Cimarron Review. You can find her at Aprillim.com.