The Sun Loved the River Until He Learned to Love the Trees - Akeno Dao
poetry ☆
poetry ☆
Make the myth I made of you
into something historical. Splay it on your walls, on your shelves,
and remember me more than your memory
leaves.
Touch me how you want to touch him and
make it beautiful,
make it right.
Clay spins until its body is unbreakable, hard enough to withstand the gaze,
while all else gets wrecked, taken apart, folded into grey,
and I want you to
make me something more than that.
Mold me into who you want with your hands.
Make me pretty enough to be glazed.
Follow me like you follow faith
in a man you can’t save,
in a man who has never once bothered to bestow his followers with a glimpse
of what is real,
not like I have you,
and keep me sane as you cry for what
I am begging you to take.
Love me like you love looking at words that make you weep, and
keep me there until he can love looking at you, too,
the way I don’t
the way I won’t let myself.
Condemn me by the way I snapped Eros’ arrow that pierced you
into mine
because I didn’t want to die living with lead but
I can’t handle gold, either.
Escape me with laurel leaves
as I turn your myth into admonition and talk to the trees
of something so beautiful
I couldn’t let myself chase it
because I know someone out there deserved it you more.
I will not be pretentious, I will just be yours
and pretend, in a few years, a few centuries of silently wanting more,
that shine will seep into me.
Gold and ichor to replace silver and suffering.
Believe me,
statues of saviors and sin
and all I see are men sculpted into you.
Akeno Dao is a transgender Vietnamese-American poet and prose writer in love with the raw and unseen parts of being human. Based in Tampa, FL, he finds passion in fanfiction and being judgmental, fueling his work as founder/EIC of The Ichor Literary and the Blake Literary Magazine. Akeno plans on studying English and Law at university. Find him on Instagram @akenodao.
