When Home Is Not Enough
Shrouded in rumor, your secrets were unraveling,
and the swelling underneath your blouse
was no longer a question of if but when.
Away you were sent to lie in a bed of lice and dried shrimp
in a village hostile to yet another bastard
who will end up begging for forgiveness.
Yet, here I am, returning from the deep well they tried to drown me in, waiting
to enter the silence of your existence echoing in this dark cave,
Breathing In Absentia
Creased air bore my form
Sun in the palm of morning
Crept away the night
Opened my eyes for the first time
Heavy with unspent promise
Kevin Minh Allen was born Nguyễn
Đức Minh on December 5,
1973 near Sài Gòn, Vietnam to a Vietnamese mother and
American father who
remain unknown to him. He was adopted by a couple from
Rochester, NY and grew
up in Webster, NY with his two younger sisters. In 2000, he
moved to Seattle,
WA to pursue a life less ordinary. Kevin is a technical
writer who has had his
poetry published in numerous print and online publications,
such as Aileron,
HazMat Literary Review, Chrysanthemum and, most recently,
Eye To The Telescope.
Kevin finished his first collection of poetry, The Wind
Above The Coast¸and is searching for a publisher.