Monthly Archives: February 2019

“There was something in the shoulder of a clean-pressed uniform that never seemed to fit me in the same way that it did for others. Plaid skirt, clean flats, and an oversized blazer to grow into, that first week of my life in Seoul was cold.”

“as a child, I remember the hum of the sea / as you sang for me from /
the pages of the old dictionary,
/ beaten blue cover on the /
definitions of your long-dead youth”

“I sit behind the block, fidgeting with my goggles and cracking my knuckles. There is one more heat before I swim, and watching the other swimmers race makes me want to rip somebody’s spine out. I lick my lips; the arena tastes like rusted copper and it reeks so grossly of chlorine I could swear the air is tinted yellow. The drone of thrashing water and frenetic onlookers makes my mind go numb.”

“People tell me I look just like my mother. It took me years to see it. The structure of our cheeks, the shape of our smiles. A few weeks ago when my mother drove me home from the airport I looked down at my hands and was startled to see hers. I hadn’t realized I’d known them so well — the wrinkles on the joints of her fingers, the patterns of crevices at the base of her knuckles, the veins that bulged out of her skin when she made a fist.”

“This is a story that begins at the ends: the frayed, thinning, split ends. The mangled roots that tell a tale of irreparable damage and stagnated growth. Why wouldn’t I cut them off? The scissors are in my hand, the inimitable power to sever and the potential energy of choice gripped shakily in my palm. But my finger rests perpetually on the trigger. This is why.”

“my grandmother lives / in a sunny-yellow room with dried wildflowers in a / china vase by the window.”

Apart from the headache from the boisterous sirens of the produce trucks, another thought overwhelmed my mind. Had fate rolled its dice slightly differently, possibly landing on a three instead of a five, I could have called this very place my home. Eagerly, I examined through the clouds of filthy haze for signs of comfort and belonging, but I remained fruitless.”

“Embarking on a road trip feels like true freedom, a blitz through the universe. As the road rumbles beneath the tires, it feels as if the highways are being pulled underneath the car, and I’m gliding through the air.”

“Far away, a man stumbles through the dry, desolate desert all alone. Upon his skinny body cling tattered cargo pants, scattered with holes and loose threads. An equally worn shirt hangs loosely, size large, though he is now a small. He was once known as Jeremy, but the name has long since slipped from his memory along with thoughts of his family and home.”

“I spent all night last night / running to get the men in white coats / with butterfly nets / because there’s shampoo oozing out of my walls / making my bathroom tiles sticky / and I’m pretty sure I’m crazy.”

“Despite countless warnings from my aunt and relatives, I was going to pet this stray. They hadn’t seen that these dogs could be gentle, so they didn’t know. Cautiously, I put my arm around to pet it.”

“Drop a lightbulb onto any surface / Watch the splinters on the skin morph into perfect shards / Flying everywhere, exposing the wiring inside.”

“‘John, do you believe in the devil?’
John looks up from his book, the old, yellowed pages a sign of its age and use. ‘I’m sorry?’ he asks, confused and little bit frightened.”

“Thunder cracked as lightning branched from the sky. / “Let’s move!” / The hazard lights flashed, and the windshield wipers beat rapidly as I scooped the raccoon’s body into a bag. Jumping into the car, my dad swerved back onto the freeway.”

“The cheap sneer of polysatin / Running, splashing, hiding across dresses / The hostess appears, pulled patch in her sleeve / wide in the electric glare”

“nod at me nod at the rooftop do it nod / acknowledge the bathtub on the penthouse garden where i am with my friends taking photos in cowboy boots / and / slips in monochromatic feels / we are 22 / we are new york”