thirteen & i’m reborn in the acrylic womb of the Jordan tainted
with confessions. i beg for absolution, my mother hunched at
the flooded bus stop—pink umbrella in hand. i asked for warmth,
for mercy, monsoons in Suzhou during the visit to my grandparents,
steaming brown sugar and adzuki bean porridge. i profess: my wrists
tell more than i would like: ninety-six ounces i tally daily. the cavities
at the white beaches keep refilling like my mouth with lies, my body
with volume. recall these swiped tears after being called slant-eyed, making
out the figure of your boyfriend in the coffee shop, the line of sweat on
your feverish lip before your last exam. and be reminded of the last victorious
match of tennis, the afterwards coquettish red races of popsicle on bare skin,
mixing with sweat, tracking swirls of saccharine: an imposter in your own land.
i mark my days with the water i bleed, the ginseng tea that torches my tongue
from speaking. i open my mouth to a salt water gargle, my eyes to a dolphin tail
sinking below a drunken moon in the Yangtze, my ears to another girl sobbing in the shower.
Evy Shen is a junior from Statesboro, Georgia. Her writing has been recognized in an international RoundPier Poetry Contest and published in The Lumiere Review. She loves to travel, her favorite place in the US being Soho/Times Square in New York City, whereas her favorite place outside of the US being Suzhou, China. When she is not writing and furiously studying, she is outside with her family enjoying God’s beautiful nature.