Tag Archives: Sophia Liu

On Leaving

After the two hundred eightieth day,             we are all primal souls imprisoned by skin. For us, the two hundred sixtieth.             From her cervix—you: the first, the tears, the exclamation;             I: the second, the relief—weighing nothing and somehow, weighing less. On … Continue reading

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The Swan

steps onto wet cobblestone to pick at seaweed.             Even the mud on the white hairs             down the nape of her neck glisten. And there,                         her wing protrudes out like a wooden splinter.             Soil stains my white shoes, but I             take … Continue reading

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Elegy for Matthew Wong

So this is it. At dawn, you count the sheep on your ceiling and at dusk, you ring for your mother. So much for life. When it is as brittle as cherry tart crushed like unset soil. When only an … Continue reading

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Pixie Dust

The suicide rate of Palo Alto’s high schools is about five times the national average. After six months, Mama buys a new bag of rice—weighing down her             shoulders on the way home. At once, she spills it all out on … Continue reading

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