Berwald Zhou

Richmond
1941

When I found her, nettles had grown up
in the garden. Once a cageling,
thorn through her neck, rusting.
Crowned her paradise far away
from humus where colors decay.
London pumps trains, scuttling in front of
Me. They are busy.
I am drowning.
Hands and lungs outstretch in
cradle of waterweeds.
Suffocating ecstasy
Toes curling

The crack of eggshells
in the brittle green of this spring

 


Rumors

He stumbled into
his room, un-
invited

 

whispers creep-
ing from used floss to
eardrums
indexfinger on his
lips

Hatred
Hunter

*

I crawl through
pelter of laughter
petrichor stinks

name matters
no more
name tag matters

maturity is asymptote

judges
judges
judges everywhere.


Berwald Zhou is a freshman at Boston University, majoring Biology with a specialization in Neurobiology and pursuing a second Psychology major. He likes to think of poetry as a personal expression. He was born and raised in China and currently lives in Boston, Massachusetts.