RENA SU
I down white-out like pills
for to write myself down makes me forget
myself a little until I shred my memoirs
to be more palpable. I edit my words
by putting pinyin above them. gentrify
my mouth and rearrange syllables. in this crevice
I am born but do not belong. I allow myself
to gently ignore the begging of my ancestors,
their broken palms prying away veneration.
I throw filial piety onto a pyre burning
bridges to Beijing. for in this home we erase
the ugly & we shatter the wombs that our pasts
have clawed out of. in this home we speak
like the others — meaning to never quite speak at all.
for to write myself down makes me forget
myself a little until I shred my memoirs
to be more palpable. I edit my words
by putting pinyin above them. gentrify
my mouth and rearrange syllables. in this crevice
I am born but do not belong. I allow myself
to gently ignore the begging of my ancestors,
their broken palms prying away veneration.
I throw filial piety onto a pyre burning
bridges to Beijing. for in this home we erase
the ugly & we shatter the wombs that our pasts
have clawed out of. in this home we speak
like the others — meaning to never quite speak at all.
turtle accident
i was four when i unlade you from acrylic planes. i carried you as
the beijing smog blinded us a little more. 25th floor of concrete —
steel wires & marionette clotheslines. when you saw death you ran
towards it, as if becoming red-lipped & icarus. i barely saw you fall
because i blinked for a second too long. i couldn’t save you when
you walked off of that balcony. did you see the light dim when
you chased the sun? sitting on my green stool i wonder whether turtles
understand decomposition. whether you feared as the air rose on
the plunge down. was it all my fault? i dreamed that you finally
escaped the steel box. & in your new life you find an oasis, start
bathing in the yellow river. my mother left plastic bowls of cabbage
on the kitchen counter & i wished to throw them from those 25
floors to accompany you. tip-toed, i squint to watch the grass sway,
find you camouflaged as the crows dissolve your jigsaw remains.
i was four when i unlade you from acrylic planes. i carried you as
the beijing smog blinded us a little more. 25th floor of concrete —
steel wires & marionette clotheslines. when you saw death you ran
towards it, as if becoming red-lipped & icarus. i barely saw you fall
because i blinked for a second too long. i couldn’t save you when
you walked off of that balcony. did you see the light dim when
you chased the sun? sitting on my green stool i wonder whether turtles
understand decomposition. whether you feared as the air rose on
the plunge down. was it all my fault? i dreamed that you finally
escaped the steel box. & in your new life you find an oasis, start
bathing in the yellow river. my mother left plastic bowls of cabbage
on the kitchen counter & i wished to throw them from those 25
floors to accompany you. tip-toed, i squint to watch the grass sway,
find you camouflaged as the crows dissolve your jigsaw remains.