where the sidewalk ends by Naomi Ling

I.

in the morning i cup petrichor in my palms, but it dispels with the morning mist

and i cross the street with my heart in my hand

is there no sanctuary for the uprooted? is there no solace for my slumber? 

this lethargy hums a funeral hymn for the ghosts, sings bitter sorrow into the spines of lovers

tells me i have eternity to give for what i've taken

i take and take and take

what is nostalgic is null / nonetheless 

hand in hand, i cannot scrape your existence from my flesh 

with a spoon.

perhaps i'll use my fingernails next time. 

II.

the sidewalk ends just the same as last time: 

but i couldn't help thinking it was longer without you by my side

asphalt stretches on and on and on into muddy night

decaying into gravel / spittle on my wounds

ferments in my sleep     i do not sleep anymore 

oh, this paper town tears at my very touch

and so i wrap my limbs in gauze

call me midas / maybe / when the day ends 

the muses still hum funeral hymns, 

and the nostalgia still slides down my cheeks

where the sidewalk finally 

ends. 

---

Naomi Ling is a Sino-American student poet and editor on the East Coast, USA. Her poetry and prose often grapple with identity, nostalgia, and most importantly of all, returning to her roots. An editor for Interstellar Review, her work has been recognized with National Gold and Silver Medals by the Scholastic Writing Awards and is published or forthcoming in Cathartic Lit, Heritage Review, Ice Lolly Review, and the 2020 Poetic Power Summer Anthology. She strongly believes that inspiration strikes her best when she closes her eyelids at night. Find her at https://naomilingg.carrd.co/.