SPELLING OUT MY NAME, OR PROOF OF THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX
DUY DOAN
delta uniform yankee
bravo alfa
delta oscar alfa november
bravo alfa
delta oscar alfa november
SPELLING OUT MY NAME IN VIETNAMESE, OR PROOF OF THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX
delta oscar alfa november
bravo alfa
delta uniform yankee
bravo alfa
delta uniform yankee
ROMANTICIZING VIETNAM
DUY DOAN
Praise whoever shook grief's rattle.
There, where they have no winter,
they sing about the moon's pallor crescent,
and hear it reflected on the pond.
A lotus stem to stir the silt,
they make rhyme fall on neutral tones.
In the pink light, I'm drunk
with the moon, chock-full of poems
to a dead brother. I sing into a paper lantern.
Its panes rattle, framing
against the wall my slow
dance. I fail to see
meaning in the white lotus
blossoming in the swamp.
There, where they have no winter,
they sing about the moon's pallor crescent,
and hear it reflected on the pond.
A lotus stem to stir the silt,
they make rhyme fall on neutral tones.
In the pink light, I'm drunk
with the moon, chock-full of poems
to a dead brother. I sing into a paper lantern.
Its panes rattle, framing
against the wall my slow
dance. I fail to see
meaning in the white lotus
blossoming in the swamp.
CHORES FOR THE OLDEST DAUGHTER
DUY DOAN
If the sky is cold, ladle out porridge
for your brother. In the evening, sing him
a song. He is my fish, you my cat.
Sing about the liver sage. Bring home
chrysanthemum. Take two coins for the old
blind man. Remember to greet him for me.
If he has some wisdom, thank him. Do not dawdle.
Return home before the kettle whistles.
The chrysanthemum, leave the fresh buds
on the mantle for another time,
and give me what's left of the dried ones.
Watch them become the river's edge again.
for your brother. In the evening, sing him
a song. He is my fish, you my cat.
Sing about the liver sage. Bring home
chrysanthemum. Take two coins for the old
blind man. Remember to greet him for me.
If he has some wisdom, thank him. Do not dawdle.
Return home before the kettle whistles.
The chrysanthemum, leave the fresh buds
on the mantle for another time,
and give me what's left of the dried ones.
Watch them become the river's edge again.
DUY DOAN is a Vietnamese American poet. He is the author of We Play a Game, winner of the 2017 Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Slate, TriQuarterly, and elsewhere. A Kundiman fellow, Duy received an MFA in poetry from Boston University, where he serves as the director of the Favorite Poem Project.
