CODA
by XU LI
after Shakespeare’s Sonnet CIII
I take away and take away—subtract, like
a departure of birds to reveal a tree and pond in winter.
Mornings, I peer in the glass for my own face, her flat and bared expression.
Of the honesty in his mirror, Shakespeare describes his self-portrait, over-going.
There’s the writer you are and the writer you want to be, a friend used to say over a beautiful table.
To touch with language feels less possible these days.
Monday, police deploy another round of flash bangs into the crowd, light after marred light.
Whatsoever that changes you, the trees, and water in winter
is both easy and hard to describe.
The lyric can contain a fervor, yes.
The lyric is a continuity, yes.
When the sun rises over our morning, it is carving and carving.
author pic here
Xu Li is a writer and educator born in Beijing and raised in southeast Michigan. She received her MFA degree in poetry at Arizona State University and was a recipient of the 2023 Kathryn Blair Swarthout Fellowship for poetry. Her recent awards include the 2021 Swarthout Award in Creative Writing and the Robert Haiduke Prize in Poetry. Her work has also been supported by Tin House Summer Workshop and the Blue Mountain Center. Alongside writing, she has taught and mentored K-12 and university students in literature, composition, and creative writing. She lives in Los Angeles.
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