September 22, 2021

Three Poems

Barbara Tran

Precedented Parroting

I.
It was many years ago that I read this
I could not forget it
Because I could not forget it I re-read it

They rock themselves to comfort
themselves They scream and suffer
from insomnia and nightmares

They attack
those who try to help They self-
mutilate At the sanctuary a war

veteran and a cockatoo The cockatoo
was kept in a kitchen
drawer All her life

in a drawer Kept there
by a
What would you call

The bird is
bald She plucks
her feathers Her skin

is reptilian
bleeding Parrots

call one another

by distinct sounds My name
means strange stranger
foreign The cockatoo

shares it Parrots

traumatized pace
and rock They mumble

to themselves I return
to these stories I’ve read before
I re-read

I pace and rock I murmur
to myself I no longer
have feathers


II.

1871  18 Chinese men and boys
lynched They lived
on a street not far from here in Los

Angeles 3 weeks ago
in Brooklyn a woman
on her own porch 2nd

degree burns Face
hands body Acid She is Asian
American In Texas a 2-

year-old child
stabbed Someone
unhinged

over what
someone else
termed the Chinese

virus
“birdbrained”  “mindless mimicry”  “mere
parroting”

On Nextdoor someone offers
paper towels seeks
bleach

I offer
a list of birds flora
seek sleep


III.

                                                I am red
                                       and orange In my dream I have a blue
                                    head I am outside

                                                myself and inside
                                                my blue head From inside
                                                   I can see        a tree orange

                                    against a   fiery   red
                                                background It is fall
                                       mine the tree’s the coast’s

                                                the earth’s In my blue
                                                            head I am crashing  
                                                which means

                                                                                    I was flying


Feelings in A-Minor

For Cathy Park Hong

White suburban sparrow
   Plastic picket line
      Flags stabbed into home fronts
It depends Day

The neighbor’s grass ever greener
   The American Miss Dream
      40 acres and the moon My own
crescent moon question mark

Please
pass the salted migrations
      It’s a cactus of a time


Teetering Under Telos

In the beak
of a bird
is a sunflower

seed weight
or energy? Effort
in flight

increases with increases
in load Light
as a bent

feather
Refraction refers
to the bending

that occurs
between one medium
and another

Every memory
carries weight Pack
light Migration

may involve
arduous
treks across

metaphoric mountains
and through
~

atmospheric rivers
Note
the angle

of incidence Excessive
effort renders
some

fractious Fatigue eats
at the mind
before entering

the muscles Lyric
diversions
are for the hearty

and hale (Think
starling)
Awareness

of the endpoint
increases perception
of effort You

are an oriole This
is a roadmap
writ

with anticipation
Destination
unknown

Knowing this

Do you eat or fly?

Barbara Tran’s poetry has appeared in Bennington Review, The Paris Review, and The New Yorker. A contributor to collaborative works by the womxn writers’ collective She Who Has No Master(s), Barbara is indebted to Canada Council for the Arts for essential support. Barbara’s video poem “So Long” will tour with a Diasporic Vietnamese Artists Network traveling exhibition in 2022.

(view contributions by Barbara Tran)