Poetry: “A Triple Sonnet for the Lost” by jason b. crawford
A Triple Sonnet for the Lost
after Dorothy Chan
everything the light touches becomes
light; spiraling backwards. skulls of grey
wolves, elephant husks, beaver tails
all planted in gloves of our mother’s willing
ankles. we prayed to get somewhere
and somewhere we got. found
a new name for joy and all of her
beautiful singing sisters, o shaped mouths
praising the glory of becoming ghost. o’ glory
we have been here before; been made
a hymn out of a boi/a dress/a frozen tongue
been in search of what we forever called
the promise land. turned stone to boat to
ship tossed across the heavy ocean sky
a ship was tossed across the heavy ocean sky
into what most would claim to be oblivion’s
sweet kiss. but we know death like a lover.
how to hold them close, wield them
like a blunting blade. why must all this
seem so familiar; this catching of spectors
flying loose from my father’s wrinkling
hands. we sought space and choose space
and found space where,
we will never tell. but i can say, here it is
beautiful, these masterful pine trees; old oaks
full of green stories and too long laughs;
we made it; but now we haven’ much time; just
look at where the outline of the water falls
look at where the outline of the water
chases the toes of the land
can you not see it? over in the distance,
my grandmother’s scooping cackle
my grandfather’s drying knees buckled over
tiran, dressed in two hundred gold links
the edges of our love’s brilliant
bodies pressed against the ocean bed
listen to them sing, all of them
even the ones i refuse to name, again
listen to them, so loud, so bright
so brown and glittered covered, sing
“we are free” “we are free” “we are home”