Lay bare the catastrophe. Sing to a wing that wants you to die. My body inherits the enormous pink, A terrain, broken limbs. If Icarus turned his head around, Eurydice would fly out of the mush. Mythology and love, It’s all about syntax and if-then. The grey sea and my mother’s water Lilies are wrestling for acceptance; in Between a hurricane brings me the altitude: I am high, above, and swirling. Strangely I Hear your urgent whisper: Turn — I did, but you were not there. And of course we know how it ended: A false fall in a false anthology: Mush, water lilies, and the grey sea. Again, it’s all about syntax — the end, and memory.
Born and raised in a small town in Fujian, China, Luoyang Chen has been living on unceded Whadjuk Noongar boodja since 2021. Luoyang studies Social Work and writes poetry. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Rabbit: a journal for non-fiction poetry, Portside Review, Pulch Magazine, Australian Poetry Anthology Vol.9, Be:longing Magazine, Cordite Poetry Review, Farrago, Meraki, Foam:e, and Opal Literary.