"Disillusion" by Emanuela Iorga
floodpath by Ran Zhao
I walked into roadside groceries &
time moved on. I took pictures
of sunsets & time moved on.
I missed my sadness because
I didn’t know how to be interesting
in any other way. Last summer a wild boar
wandered onto the highway at night
& the cars swerved past it like water
around the rooftops of a flooded city.
Now I walk alone through the dark trees.
From here you can see the buildings,
their small panes of light, the people
moving through them like actors
in silent movies: the man watching
television in his little dining room &
his neighbor drifting through next door’s
kitchen like a ghost. Some nights
you could think too hard & die of sadness,
just there on the footbridge, the cars surging
like floodwater below your feet,
walk back home in your old body
without remembering at all.
time moved on. I took pictures
of sunsets & time moved on.
I missed my sadness because
I didn’t know how to be interesting
in any other way. Last summer a wild boar
wandered onto the highway at night
& the cars swerved past it like water
around the rooftops of a flooded city.
Now I walk alone through the dark trees.
From here you can see the buildings,
their small panes of light, the people
moving through them like actors
in silent movies: the man watching
television in his little dining room &
his neighbor drifting through next door’s
kitchen like a ghost. Some nights
you could think too hard & die of sadness,
just there on the footbridge, the cars surging
like floodwater below your feet,
walk back home in your old body
without remembering at all.
Ran Zhao is a secondary student from Hong Kong. She was a 2021 Foyle Young Poet of the Year, and serves as a managing editor for Dishsoap Quarterly. Her goal in life is to become a crazy cat lady.
Emanuela Iorga is a filmmaker, artist, and screenwriter, who lives in Chisinau, Moldova. Art represents for her a recently rediscovered passion, following a series of world and inner changes. Her work can be found at https://manolcaincosmos.wordpress.com/270-2/
