Zoë Luh
Zoë Luh (she/they) is a senior at Oberlin College majoring in Comparative American Studies. She published her first book of poetry with Assure Press, and has published articles with The Oberlin Review and Broccoli Magazine. Zoë is a Gemini sun and moon and a Scorpio rising, and her favorite activity is creating art with friends.
what I wish I could say at my best friend’s casket
by Zoë Luh
I want your skeleton to grow back what was once there
let rivers freeze and melt again
wash back time to that spring
when we stood in the library with hope on our tongues
and ink spilling from fingers
I want to hold you until your hands no longer feel like casket to me
draw you in color until
I can peel back the page and feel your breath
until I can close my eyes and
your laugh is all I hear
until you are more than fading memory
because you are
more
you are the boy who wreaths himself in parables
who spills colors from his lips and
holds eternity on his tongue
the boy who
lifts me on his shoulder and runs at 8 am
who somersaults through wrinkles in time
carries laughter into my moments of silence
boy who meditates daily
who lets tears flow freely
holds love in his hands and
wrings it out until it rains sunlight
you are the boy who danced the whole night on crutches
who did push ups on his walker and
watched Avatar with me in his hospital bed
you are the boy who brought me back to myself
who drew his heart onto every surface he touched
who I call when I want to know what the sun tastes like or
how many donuts a human soul is worth
you are the boy who told me he was ready to go
the boy who created love even in death
the boy I pray to
the boy I cry for
the boy I see when I look into flames
and if I could burn away time
and all that makes us mortal
I would create fire from my hair and
sing you flesh from hand sewn cloths and
hold you until your bones fuse back together
hold you until you feel warm again
hold you until you are
again