He taught me no two blows sound the same, a ringing still lives in my ear singing a song calledbe quiet. I’ve hidden his gold rings in my throat, nearthe little boy—his face buried in his palms, ready to catchnot tears but the butterflies his stomachspills from his eyes—we share a body that doesn’t knowwhere …
Before you say anything else, I’ve triedit all—cardio and acupuncture, tryptophan and volunteering, smoothies, SSRIs, and living in the moment, or welcoming this fearin place of the other, one palm rivers sweat into the other, as my dentist takes my jaw to shake novocaine into my rootsuntil it lulls my nerves, wild with panic, an …
Nothing tumbles holy verses out of my throat as quickly as this turbulent flight, suddenlyI am praying again to the god I grew up with, a desperate Bismillah to the Most Benevolent,with Surah Al-Fatihah I open, pleaseMost Merciful, propel Your mercy onto this cabinwhere the bumps are so rough, the oxygen masks have dropped,like dead …
mountains. mountains as elephants holding each other’s trunks. a knot like marriage.my mother said, chinese tour guides make their living comparing the shape of rocks to living things.the chinese compare.the shape of rocks. the shape of me. the chinese slang for lesbian: la la. to name myself, i sing.elephants, knotted. trumpeting. the clouds part. a …
“Joy to you—we’ve won.” —Pheidippides I run on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, always Saturdays, when the press of the day ahead lessens. I run with my headphoneson low so I’ll know when a man approaches. I keep my pace steady, tryto keep my breath slow when the hushed carrolls slowly alongside me. For miles, my eyes are …
In the hottest months we hunted and traded their bodies: cicadas’ alien husks still clinging to the dogwoods, monarch wings resplendent as church windows, the dead june bug’s lustrous exoskeleton alive with light.Neighborhood kids dull with the long suburban summer, we became sharp-eyed collectors, resilient hagglers. These fragile remnants were our currency. We were proud …
Because it was not modernThey cut down the old kamani tree To clear the way for mass transit. Few knew its history.So when they cut down the kamani tree, We managed the loss without nostalgia. Few knew its history.It was planted at the College’s founding.We managed without nostalgiaBecause we had no use for the memory. …
a piano song the color of dark silver is loud in my body. on the tile, there is a piece of cracked moon. it is easy to die, so easy God forgets to remember. there is a bird crying for its mother in this song. o, God took my mother & forgot to take her …
“flexible and has a similar feel as human skin”I tell some friends about practice skins, about a friend that apprenticed for a while and showed her progress on Instagram.Tattooing is a trade and an art like anything else, but you fail to see the work of practice.You fail to understand that the medium demands a …
There was a moment I realized prayeris just a conversation with who you’d rather be.In this same way, confession builds a narrative in what should be a poem. But whoam I to judge? Who am I to hold your cheek, that jawbone, in a waythat resembles justice or war, because they follow in sequence like …