And About Time

Tung-Hui Hu

In purity you have removed everything
from your room: like a canyon holds a bridge
in its arms your body stretches
across morning. With eyes
closed or open it is the same,
sheets and walls and summer sky.
Soon you will smell the cigar
smoke from the courtyard so that
even the palm leaves are dripping

in it, you will walk
to the sink to wash your hands
of the blood you have accumulated
igneous as basalt. And you will say
to us I am so beautiful I am
the meridian between the days.
© 2007 University of North Carolina Greensboro
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TUNG-HUI HU is author of The Book of Motion (Georgia, 2003). His recent poems appear in New Republic, Black Warrior Review, and Harvard Review, and his second collection, Dirt, is forthcoming.

This excerpt from his poem “And About Time” received the 2005 Literary Award for poetry.