THE NAVY MAN

The Navy Man

The time he wore navy, what looked like a towel

When we stood to meet, we felt another wrinkle and smiled

And to think that the hair in each lid of our eyes lives?

I’ve seen it flicker for him.

His camera was muted when we hiked

His pedals creak when we bike

Looking distant and smiles fade, but when seen close,

His blue eyes do first.

How I still imagine when our eyes glistened in pictures

His thoughts are deep, never back are we never

How his eyes were in every pose

His eyes were covered by a headband I sold

We’ve tied each other up, knowing he was I

But those like him continued

The Portrait on My Pillow

Each corner unravels in sleep,

Breathless in years,

the pillow lies flat, airless.

At a corner of the pillow sheet,

a black mouth opens at the seam–

where ink bled through paper,

where dreams learned to weep.

I fell some nights,

as rain, as wheels on ruined roads

Till I awoke, with beads of sweat

that sank and shaded the pillow

Every scream sewn inwards,

some days I cried till my face melted into

wobbly linings of my eyes and nostrils–

A jocular portrait, I still laugh to

And below the faded sheets,

It still faintly paints

the colors of my fears and dreams

when I lay my head down.

Staring Out into the Ocean

There was a huge painting

hung on an endless white wall.

The back of a woman and a man, clutching their hands

staring out into a vast blue ocean.

“What are they looking at?” I asked

“There’s nothing interesting about the ocean.”

My mother shook her head, then said,

“What makes you think it’s an ocean?”

“The thin white waves, look.”

I pointed at the wobbly acrylic lines

“What makes them wave patterns?”

She asked, with a faint smile.

Then I saw her still figure, staring into the painting

Into the ocean, as her fingers

traced the wrinkles near her mouth,

her eyes distant, hollowed by the empty silence.

The woman and the man were small,

dwarfed by the ocean ahead.

Two lonely shadows,

Staring out into the blue.

Ah-Young Dana Park is a student attending a high school in Boston, Massachusetts. Her poetry often explores memory, interiority, and fleeting moments. Beyond her writing pursuits, Dana enjoys singing, painting, and exploring other artistic fields.