Animals: “In Perpetuity” by Para Vadhahong

In Perpetuity 

I sign the postcard, “Yours,” not in perpetuity, 
maybe, but enough to last my concept of time: 
fast and endless, stretching hands of minutes 
to retrace the afterglow of summer rain.

Remember—you used to say—snails crawl  
out of their shells to use rainwater for survival.  
Gripping each other’s fingers as if to tether 
the other to flight, we outbid the downpour 
to catch the bus. For all our pretend wildness,

we were creatures of hard shells: guarded 
by windows, tamed by slow-moving wheels. 
Separated by a continent, I now picture you  
touching the bank of the Mekong with gold 
fingers, hoarding sensations instead of riches,

while I scribble my name on coastal skylines 
of mass-produced cards, if only to trick you 
into thinking I am in motion. But the snail mail  
stretches into tomorrow, and tomorrow—

and tomorrow misses your ever-moving door, 
while I huddle by the bus stop, wanting for rain. 

About Para Vadhahong

Para Vadhahong is a Thai American writer from the South whose poetry and prose are published in Kingdoms in the Wild, Hyacinth Review, Lover's Eye Press, INKSOUNDS, Ice Lolly Review, fifth wheel press, HaluHalo Journal, DVAN, Sine Theta Magazine, and others. She is the winner of Salt Hill Journal's Arthur Flowers Flash Fiction Prize, Lex Allen Literary Festival's Fiction Prize, and Hollins University's Nancy Thorp Prize for Poetry.