Mangata

there’s a word in another language that means
            the maternal sorrow reflected in the moon’s image

on dark water: mangata. i sift through stacks &
            stacks of newspaper clippings to find your name

but the heavens are often callous with our hearts,
            stumbling mindlessly & throbbing beatlessly.

i wonder if our reflections are ever really ours,
            ever really the same when spinning or flipping

upside down rightside leftside, somersaulting across a
            shiny river, crawling along the sides of moving cars.

they are a life of their own—ripples in the lake make
            me think of time, ripples in blue fabric stretching

us open & stuffing us with loneliness until we are
            the teddy bears in our bedrooms, the discarded

reminders of a stop drop childhood. & this is where
            it all begins and ends: torn edges of your reflection

blur, toeing the ripples and gently rolling into mine.

Cindy Song is a high school junior at Richard Montgomery High School. Her poetry has recently been published in CICADA Magazine, TRACK//FOUR, National Poetry Quarterly, and The Rising Phoenix Review. She has also been recognized by the Bethesda Urban Partnership, Hollins University, and the Reflections program. When not writing, Cindy likes taking walks and listening to music.

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