
this
time
(a chorus
of femmes)
Brian Dang
— after Ross Gay
Listen to Brian Dang and their friend Noah read "this time".
There’s a window we look through and this time
it has been shattered by a bullet
meant for us. We look through and this time
we see the trees as they shake
reminding us we are shaking and bleeding out
but we do it together in tempo to make music
with our bodies. It is human to shake. This time
we hold on so we don’t slip through
the cracks of each other’s fingers like time
and time again we ask if we can stop running
out of time. We are tired of waiting for time
to make us martyrs. We stopped time
with our own bare hands to wrestle nostalgia
and dreams into the world because our time
is now. We are dreaming and nostalgic for now.
Now is the time we hurtle towards
a choice that will last the rest of our time
on Earth. We choose to be together
for time immemorial plus one day
where we take the time to put away
the kettle (bless its horn) and fold the linens
one last time and say goodbye
to the coal in the kitchen one last time and goodbye
to the skin peeling off from ragged hands
on ragged rags or maybe we just actually burn
it all down to save time and when we serve
we serve ourselves since our time is finally
ours to do what we will. Spending
time is a false phrase. It fools us
into thinking we can’t hold
time together as if it doesn’t flower
and fruit at the same time
when we hold each other. No more waiting
for enough time to kiss each other
for just a moment. We don’t need to stoop
to stealing time from another’s clock
whose face cannot dare conceive of a time
where we have everything we want to hold
forever to look at the stars as we lay our heads
onto each other forever and we feel
ourselves into something like forever and some
say forever is a long time but it is only
a moment in comparison to what it means
when we keep each other
close to traverse the narrow sliver of time
given to us. When you are closer to nothing
you feel everything. Your entire lifetime flashes
before your very eyes and you feel
everything that passed through your body during
your time. There is no more time to be
standing idly by waiting for a more peaceful death
threat written in the stars by some reaper
who clocks us closer to death than a life worth
living. Keep that time away from us. Fracture
time. Mangle time. And above all else, eat it
and feel full. Feel ready. Feel
eased. Breathe. We breathe at the speed of our bodies
and not a second faster. Spring comes
when it wants to come and we come
when we want to come. We will be there
to see Spring because this time,
in the end, we live.
We live
and live
and live
and live
and live
and live!
Brian Dang (they/them) is a Vietnamese/Chinese playwright, poet, and teaching artist. They are a resident playwright at Parley and were a 2020-21 Hugo House Fellow. For Brian, playwriting is an act of envisioning an eventual communing, an opportunity to freeze time as we know it, and a reaching for joy. Their writing has been supported by 4Culture, Seattle Office of Arts and Culture, and workshopped with Seattle Opera, Pork Filled Productions, Mirror Stage, Karen’s Secret Army, Theatre Battery, and the Sewanee Writers’ Conference. They teach with Writers in the Schools & Arts Corps. Find more of their work at brianeatswords.com.