Blue from a Distance

filoplume semiplume 
    bristles
        an empty

calamus Feathers receive 
    no nourishment They are
        dead

structures On a bird 
    feather each barb 
        holds smaller

barbs On us 
    each loss
        encompasses smaller

losses Feathers soften 
    the lines
        where different parts

of the body meet They sculpt 
    the body
        into a teardrop

shape There is a phrase
    in Vietnamese—chia bu`ôn— 
        that translates

loosely
    into sharing 
        sadness
 



In my family’s case 
    it’s like Jesus
        with his two

fish and five
    loaves of bread 
        It’s a bottomless

supply Except
    in our case it’s salt 
        on salt

sadness served with 
    sorrow The calamus
        lies beneath the skin

The rachis holds 
    two vanes A layer
        of keratin

allows
    space for light 
        to play Large

tail feathers 
    can act
        as a rudder They can help

with braking 
    There is no blue pigment in bird
        feathers Blue feathers
 



are a result of structure 
    reflection wavelengths
        bouncing In Vietnamese

there is no 
    specific word
        for blue It shares

the same name
    as green To distinguish 
        you might say

the xanh
    of leaves or xanh 
        as the sky

which today
    is the furthest thing 
        from blue

Read more from Issue 17.2.