by Merilyn Chang
our heaven is still within reach
hands, outstretched, like liquid veins in the desert
the walls have fallen—
—angels shed their wings
mud houses collapsed to reveal
cathedrals of glass and marble
the lies they told us as children
burned away by a land that no longer needs water
love who you love, a hymned orison, a choir of sirens
the planets, hanging in our horizon like a nursery mobile
Saturn’s rings, spinning on its axis
and who could blame us for
finding happiness in a different god
badgering the gates of Eden to let us in
because we have worshiped, despite our sin
my dear, our heaven is just around the corner
leave your cymbals, and black clothes
they won’t hate us for being in love
Merilyn Chang is a Chinese-American writer and journalist based between New York and Berlin. She studied comparative literature and creative writing at NYU where she graduated with honors. Her poetry and prose have been published in Inkfish, Literary Shanghai, Eunoia Review, and more. Editorially, Merilyn writes culture and music reviews + interviews for Resident Advisor, Dazed, Fact Magazine, Numero Berlin, and more. She is currently working on her first fiction novel as well as her first poetry chapbook manuscript.
Emerge Literary Journal 