7-11 by Ana Padilla Fornieles
CW: Allusions to death

7-11
January first, two k twenty-one,
four a.m. woven with
tinsel icicle,
of men and women in joy
so bright and cherished
we’ve emerged huddled
drawn into the kindled night
feasting and dancing
pissing and puking
pledging to lessons learned
taking an oath that
the past is now gruel
the dead may be a plumb line
today onwards clean
tomorrow, tenfold
enough made us whole
whole we’ll go forward
7-11
January first, two k twenty-one,
Beixinqiao ‘til five.
tepid genmaicha
got you a three-legged blue seat,
dairy chills your back.
the truth as follows:
time is too humble a force
to lug all at once.
if or when are all
too heavy of promises
to extort from days.
today’s found you here
you could be left forever
waiting for your turn
for love to linger
light like water drops
easy on your back
7-11
January first, two k twenty-one
four forty facing
sugar malt cookies,
life and loss, how to get home
in time for more grapes
you text your mom, say:
sometimes this city chews me
you text a friend, say:
it spits out my bones
she texts back and says:
it bites gently, still there?
he sends a sunset:
here my baby was happy
while I thought of death
nothing ever lasts,
everything’s been,
in and out we swirl.
at home, your hands run
under hot water, in time
to zoom yours and toast.
dawn’s reached you at last.
wherever you will wake up
this day will find you.
Ana Padilla Fornieles is a literary translator, author and artist based in Beijing, where she is part of Spittoon Cultural Collective. Her prose and poetry can be found in Beijing Underground, The Shanghai Literary Review, Womanhood, A Shanghai Poetry Zine, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine and Second Chance Lit. Twitter @satoriglass IG: @wistfulberry