Tag Archives: Seraphina Tang

(in response to Richard Siken’s “Scheherazade”) this is the dream where we are hauling our corpses out of the lake with wave-capped limbs creeping up shore, clothing ourselves in seafoam, sandcrumbs; where our moonlit silhouettes waltz around the room with … Continue reading →

i. the ten p.m. you is sad-eyed and sharp-shouldered. i don’t like him. i don’t know him. the you that belongs to me is lazy afternoon you, is sunshine-like butter and guitar-calloused hands, does not stand like a child nightgowned … Continue reading →