Tag Archives: Josephine Wu

funeral for my grandmother in which i drink tea for the first time

i sip a chimney of smoke in             spoonfuls bury my feet beneath             glass remember that to burn             incense is to marry our martyrs with             matriarchs my grandmother’s grave melts in             plum wine a tablespoon of jasmine dimpling             over grass you … Continue reading

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the house i will build in a decade

because in / ten years / i will be             twenty-nine and i / don’t wish to grow anything / beyond that /             sallow in me my stomach / my swallow / my esophagus stripped             in two / find me a … Continue reading

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medan half-sunken by dust and sorrow

& grandmother strung by the thread of her qipao outside a church, cotton-chafed and her left shoe             slotted underneath her wrist. a cross left behind by a passing missionary between her             blood-muddied thighs. she didn’t feel my father until he … Continue reading

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