ALASKA, JUST WAIT
By Anna Vu
November 4, 2026
Graphic by Chloe Phan
ending, never complained. But thoughts are prayers to our
earth and this is all you tell me. Over and over again, you
offer some breathing room in tomorrow’s teeth-grind.
I once saw an eagle by the Cook Inlet coast, heaven-reaching
like it was the only one remaining. By daybreak, there was
no sound and it was quite cold. From below, I mistook its
solitude for hunger. There must be a secret to the American
dream. I am a fool, frightened by this great whalefall of me.
I know I am meant for more than some noiseless fallout.
The brink of the cliff, then I, a philodox, realizing all that
will go missing. This tundra, vending machines, national
emblems, and suddenly I have seen signals that these are
the perfect years of life.
Graphic by Chloe Phan
I have seen burial grounds this thick & when all passed you
said please call when you’re finally elsewhere. Today, I
miss the brilliance before the slow sink in the air, late-teen
& hungry. Here’s to the eagle and the ratoons. Here’s to
the beautiful things that never touch.
My dozen bodies take flight like shorebirds before the
tactical shriek. Pa, my tendency to call mayday—mayday
—is inherited from you. To be born as prey. Hardened flesh,
unmoving target, carcass of an ambitious other life. Pa, are
you still weighed down by excess dreams you once had?
I am in Alaska, passing over the aphotic shell of my
rotting potential. I am face-to-face with America’s
sweetheart. In inexorable cycles, I dangle between sculpted
claws. But for a moment, I mistake being carried for flight. ■
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