Monday, 20 June 2022

'The Beginning's End' by Yuqing Weng

Some petals have fallen.
I look away, and walk away.
My friends gave me the flowers when I finished my finals.
With a bottle of prosecco that we downed that very night.
We toasted to the end of exams.
The next day, I devoted to myself to beginnings.
Resumes, interviews, apartment viewing and renting.
What is life but beginnings tailing ends?
Yet the chasm between beginnings and ends spins like a black hole.
I leaped forward and clung to the summer ahead.

One day I woke up to find pollen scattered on the windowsill, a tender yellow.
I put some on the tip of my tongue: It was bitter.
Then without much thought I wiped the windowsill with a rag.
I should have collected and spread the pollen into the wind.
Another day, I knocked the vase over while opening the window. Water everywhere.
A subtle smell, so similar to the refreshing fragrance of chrysanths, but ... bad.
After that incident, the flowers seemed to have suddenly aged.

Can one begin without ending? No, the black hole must be seamed.
Yet after lots of alcohol and hugs and goodbyes, I still haven’t bid farewell.
When L said “I will miss you”, my response was lagged and feeble.
When M messaged to say she was leaving, I pretended not to see.
Today is the first day I’m alone in an empty college.
In the morning, I open the window to the strangest familiarity.
Some petals have fallen.

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