Small Act of Persistence

The sun hits the cloud. Splendor
of battered light. Not for me,

this airy battle, this crossfire
falling onto my porch.

What am I, this early hour,
a pulse against a wall, trying to name

the color of the wound that opens
and closes the sky.

Still, what unfolds comes
like an indifferent empire.

I stand at the rusted railing and
rehearse the art of loss until

every heartbeat is an omen. Then
the morning widens. The world

is mine and mine alone
in the way that a burned field

belongs to the only surviving tree.
In my mouth, the metal taste of dawn.

I stay in the gray hour.
The cruelty of having to look

at the stubborn reflex of waking,
the slow work of un-ghosting, a body

nailed to place, pierced
and preyed on, as the day arrives, ruined.

When the Heavenly Dog Swallowed the Sun

The gate to the other world opened. I hid in our thatch hut.
There were sounds: hymns, prayers, mumblings. Someone
rang a bell. Someone breathed syllables. There was always
someone. Mother didn’t like visiting relatives—especially the
dead ones. Still, she cooked rice topped with a thick piece
of pig-head meat, side-dished with complaint. After placing
bowls on the table, I was introduced to each of our dead. My
body—my young body—became a festival of names.

Looking for Shambhala

I need to believe in my walking. My lungs heave. A choked
morning. The land knotted in shade—then a forest of
rhododendrons: pink rumpling white. The golden tips of stupas.
Prayer flag winds. Beneath me, the river’s green recesses. The
brambles riot. I’m locked like a fish in two hands. If I could
understand every fallen leaf. If I could be naughty as rain. If I
could hear whatever a pinecone has to tell—a confession tastes
like thistle and I tear my throat open. Alone, I win by losing what
I hold dearest: my wound lying far beyond—

*

Aiden Heung is a recent immigrant to the United States, originally from a Tibetan autonomous town in China. A finalist in the Disquiet Literary International Contest, he is also the winner of the Elinor Benedict Poetry Prize and the Levis Prize in Poetry. His debut collection, All There Is to Lose, selected by Ilya Kaminsky, was published in March 2026 by Four Way Books. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Washington University.