Autumn breaks over St. Thomas
Quang Vo
like a tea sieve
The sundried day was cold
on their way from class
back to unmade beds.
But we were content—
brewing leafy words
that would not stay fresh
while everyone—
everyone was just waiting.
Behind your shadow,
I soaked the twisted leaves
to warm a somber moment—
regretting that your voice cannot
unravel labyrinth steps
or rouse last year’s thoughts,
nor can you halt footsteps
into some uncertain vestibule
12