Dream from the blood of a dream

In the black forest where we mark flight
in place of north star, I drift & taste

the smoke of our last fire, where
you offered dreams on a pyre

of your past lives & named it
redemption. Still wounds

in the night sky from where our wanting
pierced through the stratosphere. Bits

of thunder & wind & racing
animal mind rising from the earth

like history, resurrected. & yes
the trees still resent our presumption.

How many years & even now
you are the only song

which cuts my throat
to say aloud. Your animal heart

bright & hot in my mouth
like a blade. I close my jaw & swallow

until I cut to bone. I dreamt once
of spitting out the meat

at your feet, to offer something
back. Woke tonguing

your name from my teeth. This, my blood,
my only payment for what you have gifted

& what you have conquered.

KJ Li is a Chinese-American writer raised in central Texas. She currently lives in D.C., where she takes long walks to podcasts and misses the family cat. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Lumiere Review, Rust + Moth, The Adroit Journal, and others.