Yes, I am trying,
I am trying to be
good. I can find my way
around my life now
with my eyes pressed
shut. I can soften into
the comfort of making
enough food for tomorrow.
Rice water swirling
down the silver drain;
garlic, shallots, eating
my greens. I can rinse
the cutting board,
slide the knife
back into its wooden
sheath. I have reached
the crossroads
of the open wound
and stepped into the cross-hatch
of April. Winter has faded
past the treeline; an exhale
giving way, the sky purpling
into dawn. I lather my hands
with basil and honey. The scent
lingers. Last night, the field
outside swelling with
rain. Today, a palmful
of creation: yarrow leaves,
apple seeds, the places
where the light gets in.
Nathan Lee is a transgender Singaporean-American poet from the California Bay Area currently studying at UC Davis. His work has been published in Sunday Mornings at the River, Doghouse Press, and Polyphony Lit, among others. Outside of writing, he loves tide pools, evening walks, and petting all the stray cats he can find. He can be found on Instagram and Twitter at @poetrynate.
