HoboEye Poetry:
Sandra Liu, NYC


Silence: Super hot

    Super hot.
    Does she speak English?
It’s still dark. Sheets are not on the bed. The moisture and temperature
are such that they take on mass. Weight that encumbers rising.
Floor, liquid, active agent.
    No dough.
It’s so dark. No light necessary. No breath.
    Not a word. Finnish.



Silence: He bets you

He bets you have never heard of a NoiseMaker™, a producer of white noise so that control freaks like you can sleep assured, with it close enough to your head, in ignorance of the sounds of wayward horns, airplanes, sirens, and traffic malfeasance, worldly sophistry, and your own damn—pardon me, ma’am—mortality, respectively.
    That’s mademoiselle, as if a mofo-ing cuckolded cock like you would know the difference.



Silence: Guaranteed

Guaranteed while sealed.
Do not use if inner safety seal has been broken.
Do not use if seal has been broken and vacuum compromised.
Do not use if outer seal has been broken.
Do not use if seal shows signs of tampering.
Check seal.
Do not freeze.
Keep in a cool dry place.
Do not exceed recommended serving as improper use does not enhance results.
Not responsible for accidents.



Silence: A feather fall

A feather falls from a window;
Nothing is broken.

    A man falls from the same window, and by the next day, everyone in the building is talking about it, let alone all the neighbors on the fourth floor.

Four is an unholy number in China;
Here, it’s the thirteenth floor that isn’t there.
But he was Chinese, poor guy.



Silence: what would that be

what would that be, a well-oiled
sense. eyes closed. fingers drifting
on a map, tracing the line
home. slats shut
against the heat. muscles
under pressure. a single talent,
the odor of it.
the incense
only a memory now
but I still drink
tea with butter and salt.
flowers are beguiling but
I don’t like the scent of decay.
the thief hangs himself
next to the men on the gallows,
plays dead even
when the giant cuts away
a piece of his thigh,
tells this story to the scion
for the life of his third son.
the dyer dreamt
of such violence.
I shy, I lend myself.

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