Two Poems by Bach Le

the woman under the tree

i see a woman under the tree
with her plaid shirt wrapping her body
marks of dirt marring the old tee
that dates back from when, i couldn’t see

her loose skin melting from her bones
as hands wave arduously for guests
to buy her fresh bouquets from the garden
where birds sing and her husband rests.

she stays there, stays there, and stays there
as the days and months and years pass
still the same tee and the same bright flowers
that can’t beat the grin that she has.

‘til one day, as i roam the street
and the lady is nowhere to be seen
where’s she been,
where’s she been,
where’s she been,
as i see people crying as they pass
roses, lilies, orchids down their eyes
it’s the flowers that the old lady has!
and i realize it’s the last goodbye
as they pass, and walk out of sight.

if the street could speak

if the street could speak
would it roam of pain
with its call of shame
on those who walk past?

would it have harsh skin
from dirt that lies in
months of no-one-sweeps:
street won’t sing, it weeps.

it sees people pass
those that run, that laugh;
street wants to play too,
but it lies, for who?

for the girl that sleeps
on the hard, cold floor
the stray with its paws
clinging on dead jeeps

for the man that walks
on the suit that’s torn
near the bike that turns
corners where roads meet.

and the street laid bare
without no one cares
life just flows, just flows
and it still stays there.

if the street could speak
it would mourn, would cry
for ignorant lives
left those like the street.

Bach Le is currently living and studying in Hanoi, Vietnam. Previously, his poems have been published in Synchronized Chaos, Poetry Breakfast, Garfield Lake Review, and more. Through poetry, Bach hopes to give voice to different issues in society, as well as showing his attitudes towards life with its various dimensions.