Silent Adieu Each day is a land silently waiting to be unmasked. This evening, I’ll find the revolver wrenched in my father's closet. The barrel seems to extend longer than the time it allows for farewells. Sometimes, I wonder if holes are made easier during the night. That a trigger soiled with daylight might be easier to unroll. I’m gripping the gun, but dawn is only as bright as we wish to call it. Perhaps, the frail body lying against the front porch isn’t as scary at night. Soon, I’ll bend down and recognize his face, like a bullet waiting before it begins to whisper.
Jaewon Chang is a high school junior living in the Philippines. His works have been recognized by the Scholastics Art and Writing awards on a national level and he is a Foyle Young Poet. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Cleaver Magazine, Austin International Poetry Festival Youth Anthology, National Poetry Writing Month Anthology (2020), Ilanot Review, Bitter Oleander Press, and elsewhere. During his free time, Jaewon enjoys traveling the city on foot.