She sits loud-spoken, settling stiff body on stiff mattress
with soft gray curls kissing
humid air and I watch
her hands sweep upward strokes, needle caressing
beanie baby with rat-punctured holes.
I swear she sparkled with the resiliency
of … more »
Barefoot
The organizer said, “Okay,
everyone gather at this place
at this time–pretend
it’s a birthday party. Then head over
to the creek when it turns dark;
there will be a small boat
to take you to the … more »
metronome of knife to cutting board
a chorus of sounds
my eyes well up as
she continues without a single tear
down the hall, the piercing smells
overtake us
she hums and mutters
moving to her own beat
a small … more »
…I would say
I love it, what’s in my body,
but I want you to love it too.
‘Answer 3’, Devin Kelly
I was searching for the poet when I found
the man who’d opened fire in a church in … more »
the promise of a
new year is in a
bowl of ddukguk,
for every strand of
flesh reveals the
body that wastes
away, every bite
of dduk the coins
fade as the sun
sets, every crunch
of kimchi that sour… more »
after Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Hour’
This evening, in the train station,
I ascended, you descended—
our eyes met, then I turned away.
My husband was behind me, and
you went home, to your wife and child.
It’s hard to believe … more »
“He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with
shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.” – Psalms
kuala lumpur | houston, 1981.
they say these streets
were paved with aspiration.
the ranches are … more »
your blood goes picnicking at a grave
brooms and burnt paper in hand
4/4/[2000 + 4×4]
At Qīngmíng only the magnolia huā (花)
bloomed munificent white against a grey curb.
Like the first mourner at a mythic funeral
you—little (华)… more »
You would make me choose
to press autumn hues
between pages of The Invisible
Man, or to jump in piles of reds
and yellows but never
to turn two leaves over
for a vibrant red.
Maple glued in journal,… more »
In Pakistan, grey smoke stacks curl up
to sun. Skin browns on roadside
as we throw makai into each
other’s mouths. Eyes sting from rising flame,
salt, chilli powder. Uniform shirts untucked
outside schools. At seventeen we cross over.
Return … more »