Fangs of Life
By Phạm Phú Thanh Hằng
the fingernail moon scratches into the sky
Smearing its navy blood across my eyes
My hind legs
quiver in suspense of day-breaking tide
fingernail moon reflecting in my eyes.
The scent of maturity stifles twilight air:
Hind legs bent,
Here I am, anticipating for the game ahead.
I kneel before a tidal wave of shadows:
as it floods the clear horizon of lies.
You call me a hunter, but hunters are also haunted by the fangs of life.
fangs of life…
yes the fangs of life,
are holding on
to my pulse-hating flesh,
to suck on the bones of my deepest desires,
to snap the spine of your greatest threat.
Surviving is learning to let myself go:
unyielding to the jaws of fear
that i know,
fear fear itself.
The night unknown to us
is a playing field between predator and prey,
still, on the verge of possibility,
i run fearlessly
learning to love this pulse-hating flesh.
i run fearlessly
Away from the horizon
because i, the hunter,
am free in the enigmatic hours of the night,
free in a world on the urge of possibility.
Held firmly under the two fangs of life,
How do we move through the world when everywhere we look
we are bound by a horizon of lies?
How to survive?
Hunters are haunted by what they are during the day,
But dogs at night kneel down,
Waiting patiently for
tidal waves to snap the spine of the sun.
Here i am,
on the urge of possibility,
For night’s game ahead
intimacy in play.
Thanh Hằng is a queer second-gen vietnamese- mixed race person who spends her time being an #emotionallylooseqtpoc , embracing her #piscespower, and cutting across the binaries in life. She is a zine-maker, writer and radio presenter for Queering the Air on 3CR Community Radio in Melbourne. Find her/em work at thanh-hang.tumblr.com and purchase their zine: here.
Photo by Lee Hannah and edited by Phạm Phú Thanh Hằng.