Whenever she is unable to fall asleep She would snuggle herself In the heart of darkness, waiting For me to hold her tight From behind her back like light, but …
Category:
Poetry
You ask me, while we stand in the rain (somehow, you managed to stay bone-dry), to tell you a story, any kind of story, but begin it with a day …
And you have no materiality. Yet you exist, somehow, as a shelf in the library, a gacha ball, or a cat in a box. A dictionary is filled with differences, …
In 1987, my parents bought a one bedroom apartment in Shekou. It was Chinese for snake tongue because there was a fork in the road that divided the village from …
You nod your head through the bitter taste of dread that threatens to stain the smile you perfected on the kitchen tile. You do as you’re told: be kind, be …
I trace my grandfather’s hands across the atlas he never owned, each river a scar, each ridge a fist. He speaks in gestures I barely know: the curl of a …
steam, salt, pink crabs on their backs grandpa sucks the spit through his teeth splits the belly open drinks from the shell, announces this delicacy loud enough to reach the …
The other day, my friend sent me a video. Two creators known to portray black and white swans of a coin. In the video, they cheekily look at each other, …
in the garden with you dirt, food tell me what I can eat make that funny whistle sound with a leaf on rainy days we watch the storm from the …
On the lighthouse’s narrow stairs, my mother’s hand in mine, my children steadying her back, three generations pressed together in one fragile climb. Her knees ached, the steps too steep, …
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