broken tongue
my mother does not know me
enough to understand -
sees me through translation
reads me in dictionary precision
formulaic she says
my flow the same year to next -
she thinks me a language
she must remember America
chinese to english.
she dreamt in the English exam room -
american dreaming in chinese
_________________________________________
1.happiness
A. comfort
B. love
C. hope
D. wealth
2. purpose
A. community
B. God
C. finding
D. college application
3. passion
A. identity
B. love
C. becoming
D. a lie
_________________________________________
she does not know
that I want more.
her fluency breaks my mouth.
16 years later
she speaks with a broken tongue
tooth grinded dreams to
sand through my fingers
when you died
it was telling Elliana
you can’t wear the bikini
it was evicting the panda toy
to overpriced lip balm
it was looking at the group photo
and wanting to steal all the bodies but yours
it was the waffle maker
you called a skirt
it was skipping lunch
and eating your friends for dinner
seeing the table seats are empty
it was a mosquito
summer sewing pins hold up your clothes
and drink you dry
a decade’s reflection
i) 10 years ago
looking at the mermaids
she so fervently believed in existence
protostar* eyes
gather insights from clouds
youth makes her gullible
so she thinks my image shows asian aphrodite:
emerged from the seafoam
the perfect daughter
beauty
inspiration
she is not.
ii) homecoming night
falls with dead leaves.
the grey sky to my skin
but erase life's erosion,
my girl friends and i
litter the bathroom with all sorts of
shapeshifting pastes, creams, powders,
and elixirs,
brand hair
into locks of curls
i am a 美女 tonight.
iii) today, mother made me 小笼包*
kneaded dough
pinched peaks, steamed to lush:
a chinese delicacy
my body couldn't digest
that kind of fear.
i told her i couldn't eat more, away from those eyes and
disappeared upstairs before she could make me finish the plate.
lincolns dropped in tin cans
I cash home for
a flat tummy.
iiii) in chinese culture, 4 is an unlucky number.
四* pronounces like 死*
4 sounds like death but
my blood bleeds of
my 4.0 and
4 year stale youth
is this what waiting for death feels like?
v) looking at the perfect girl
i so fervently believe in existence
with her eddie bear in one hand and
her mother's hand in the other,
neutron star* eyes
imploded in fiery supernova heat
aged regret
so i think her image shows asian aphrodite:
emerged from the seafoam
the perfect daughter
beauty
inspiration
i am not.
KEY ----- *美女: měinǚ - beauty *小笼包: xiao long bao - a kind of soup filled dumpling *四: sì - four *死: sǐ - death *傻人: shǎ rén - fool *Protostar-the first stage to a star's life *Neutron star- the last stage to a star's life
5 years, 5 loves
6 years of life,
green sprouts in the soil.
My younger sister still acted like a baby,
when the blankets were castled and
her costumes made things real in her fantasy-small world.
My older sister lended me all the time she didn't have.
As her world spun, she drained her body and
spent the rest to take me for Cinderella so that
my afternoons tasted like butter popcorn
I remember my mother and father who walked me across the new,
working too many jobs:
accountant, computer scientist -
mother, father -
housekeeper, cook -
tooth fairy, santa clause -
so I looked up to them like travelers do the north star
10 years of life,
a sparrow dying
to leave the nest behind.
I remember making my first real friends -
the kind where you go to their houses without begging,
where you didn't have to shout to be included - you just were.
We'd scamper up and down the hills with hands tumbling above our heads into the grass and everything else we learned in gymnastics.
We'd dip our hands in magic glue mush that wore glitter and beads -
shimmered with every stretch,
the sparkly colors and shiny gloss made us all want to eat it.
I thought we were paper stars,
made to be warm and fuzzy together.
12 years of life,
I remember the first boy that buzzed in my pulse,
the way that blood rushed to my brain each time I told myself to keep cool.
it’s hard to say what ugly mash of feelings were shoved in that bowl crushed with different utensils I had picked up to survive -
it ruined something good -
like how insecurity ruined something special.
I had really thought that you could actually die from embarrassment.
14 years of life, a porcelain doll.
bone ash and clay from my body to
heat in fire so fused I am,
beautiful like
never before.
my friends tell me I am the prettiest girl in the grade
They say I am kind and smart
but still I am alone ugly before bed.
so close to perfect, so far from being seen
until falling became standing and pain became living -
all in the name of love.
16 years of life,
Death lights me into a phoenix.
I, take bone ash from my body to burn what I knew and
mother the fire into beginning again.
I am the sky that creates her own world and air for flight -
I am my own life for lungs.
because it’s 16 years of life and I remember to love myself.
I am not a monster
birds rustle blades
bending heads to peer at
the soil -
I stand far
then close
till
fear sweeps them away
black wings
join to distant triangles -
shrink far into
the sun.
I wonder if I am to them what
kept me shrinking so long
I think of the
way they survive without guarantee -
I come to their field with
bread in my hands -
they’d smile if
birds could.
see that I am
of earth
and
body for adventure
understand what I mean beyond
danger.
But now the wind blows, and
tall grass waves their
trail goodbye.
if you catch yourself going back again
remember 11 pm
when you hugged the park bench
to sleep
find an old video of
crying
hysteria to a computer
cut up the anxiety pills
you called poetry
lay them out to see
and eat it down a charcuterie board
if the rabbit hole has become
too narrow to fall down
at least
prop yourself in the walls
and remember why you ran.
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Zoe Zhang 