Illustration by Arty Guava (Lay Hoon)
……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. ……. …hope
around a mouthful of braised pork and
glistening dumplings for some hungry hellish
haunting. look in the tea leaves and in the
heaping bowls of fresh jasmine rice.
chew, swallow, smack lips smeared in the
gloss of sesame oil. stuff ourselves
with enough garlic and salt to ward off ourselves.
marinate our life in enough spices we don’t reek
of life anymore, of living bodies nursing
purpling bruises. smoke and steam twist
in white papery ribbons; all night the restaurant
burns long slow sticks of incense at the altar.
like this, ghost street is full of us, trying to find them:
we are one big, open, groaning maw,
knocking our teeth together, white bone
gnawing hard around tomb stones.
the waiter comes around so i order her
favorite. wait here some more, watching
the fly buzz around the dim yellow
light in low, lazy circles.
then i get it all to
go
Grace Liu (she/her) is a Chinese-Canadian writer based in Vancouver, BC. Her work focuses on intergenerational histories, language, and the diasporic body. She also appears in publications such as Room Magazine and the Cordite Poetry Review.