"The Bull" Ocean Vuong

"The Bull" Ocean Vuong

He stood alone in the backyard, so dark the night purpled around him. I had no choice. I opened the door & stepped out. Wind in the branches. He watched me with kerosene -blue eyes. What do you want? I asked, forgetting I had no language. He kept breathing, to stay alive. I was a boy – which meant I was a murderer of my childhood. & like all murderers, my god was stillness. My god, he was still there. Like something prayed for by a man with no mouth. The green-blue lamp swirled in its socket. I didn’t want him. I didn’t want him to be beautiful – but needing beauty to be more than hurt gentle enough to hold, I reached for him. I reached – not the bull – but the depths. Not an answer but an entrance the shape of an animal. Like me.