I Sell Organosilanes to Fix the World

The rusted factory gate is closed,

an ulcered mouth.


The acrylic air spews

sour on my skin.


I clutch the sales kit like faith,

but no one has time for me.


If suffering can speak,

let it speak like a mother.


My life has just begun

to know its end—


Like a stone into a well, I will

make a sound.


This is my pledge

against the vast silence of my country.


After all, I’m also a poet; I live

among broken things.


One day, the world will be just fine

without me. But I won’t be


afraid as a June bug.

I will put down


my suit and say good morning

to the bone-white dawn.


A mind-room opens

in the shape of a book.


I see myself walking into it.

Aiden Heung (he/they) is a Chinese poet from a Tibetan autonomous town. Heung worked as a traveling salesman before moving to St. Louis. His debut, All There Is to Lose, won the 2024 Levis Prize and will be published in 2026.
TAGS
Poetry
Originally published:
April 2, 2025

Featured

Searching for Seamus Heaney

What I found when I resolved to read him

What Happened When I Began to Speak Welsh

By learning my family's language, I hoped to join their conversation.

When Does a Divorce Begin?

Most people think of it as failure. For me it was an achievement.

You Might Also Like

Work


The Touch



Our Summer Issue

Two pieces by Annie Ernaux, including a print-exclusive essay. Plus a folio titled "What Was AI?" — with contributions from Sheila Heti, Lauren Oyler, Christopher Sorrentino, and others.
Buy This Issue