Portrait / Emma Nguyen

Portrait

Emma Nguyen

Last night I arrived home with soaked bags and bottles Coat torn to strings that wrapped around my knees You weren’t there to greet me but I saw your painting, A portrait of me Passionate and sincere on the kitchen counter

Sleeves still dripping, I dropped my bags and gazed over the beating chaos Mouth agape and crying silently: I saw a smile that grimaced back to me, that Wailed against the wet dirt of my shadow

And even then, I knew where you sat: In my room and next to a dim glare Expressionless but feeling my heat and Quivering beneath your foam skin

You, the dream that fell down with me, A paper glow that breathes my breath:

Whenever the sky turned purple, You’d help me break apart then watch me Glue myself back together again Like a print of churning stars

Out in the kitchen I unrolled onto the oil colors Kissing, licking frantically at the honest face Whose eyes were vague And sitting above a jaw warped by tornadoes

Paint everywhere Your eyes couldn’t tell me From the pearls of my walking shadow