Oxycodone

I find you in the dark between hours.
I don't always know what to do with you.

When I don't know what to do with you,
I pocket you, swathe you in cotton.

You, pocketed in swaths of cotton.
You, sea-green breath on my shoulder this morning.

Breathing sea-green against the shoulder of morning,
the clam is, of course, as happy as a clam.

Today the clams are happy to be clams.
Tomorrow is a pond at the edge of the sea.

Tomorrow, my feet in the pond, yours in the sea,
we become little doors, always opening.

I will always open my door to you
in the hours between darkness.

Steven Duong (2025)