am i a stranger here? years ago i was found squatting
near the dimsum stall + fattening my chubby
cheeks. flesh sags like breasts underneath the hazy
guangzhou sun : notorious for its
brow-brittle-bruising heat, it melts wax parasols
of blushing [bone / skeleton] girls. my mother hawks a purse for
less than she makes each year
+ a few cents on top. you thrust me into the wailing
townsquare, selling wide-brim hats + pick out the
eggshells in your teeth. contort my waist
to fit in the door of the china shop.
i mix cantonese with phlegm in my throat +
knot my tongue up
liberty child. red dragon swallows me whole
spits me out the other end
at brunch, my grandmother stares at the fork + knife i use as fingers
tells us here, we are strangers.
written for the one and only jun lei. my love, we both hail from the same hometown & i know you miss it too, so here. it's not enough, but i hope it helps. it sure did help to write abt it.