Mileages In Sadness Poem by C.D. Xiang

We are crying,
it’s the way we talk—

an old story,
mothers and daughters
forced in the same room by repercussion.

Mine will be thy sorrow,
one leaves, one remains to make a family
from the ruins,
keeping close her breathing.

I will always come to thee
in the off hours
these business trips provide.
You’ll speak about a man you met,
maybe one you are leaving.
Best keep everything neat
and pristine, remain a stranger.

When we meet,
in my hotel, or dinner
in a rendezvous with your roommates,
who, you say, protect thee,
we will talk or shop. I’ll buy
whatever I think you want.
Then you say something
I didn’t remember, and it starts
before I can turn away.

You and I are all the sad movies
we have watched and vowed
to stop watching,
the formula novels we buy
like nicotine patches.

These are the words that line our faces,
to be read backwards in mirrors.
They play in my head,
the engines pushing me through the clouds,
all the way home—

I’m proud of you. Let me know
about the new job, text me after the date tonight.
I’m so happy you stopped smoking, Baby.
This time I know you’ll do it.