by Irene Han
Art by Rhee Kang
Issue: Metanoia (Winter 2017)
There are too many ways to name
a firefly − a lightning bug −
and not enough words to describe it rising.
There is a term for every day, for every hour,
but not for how I balance all nine suns
on the cusps of my fingertips
and walk them along the lip of the horizon.
Fear is only fear when we smooth out a line
and stoke it into existence, just as truth
and love and any other salutation.
Perhaps naming something is to create it.
In that case, I would name my collarbone
and a head to rest against it.
