Tag Archives: Vivian Huang

baba look, it is her tongue on her dress. the moon shivering at the sight of her heartache lips. could that be me someday, baba? i already hold knives like she does, yield them like the heroines on your ceiling. … Continue reading →

on the first day of my husband’s synthesis, we learned to plant peonies in the center of his tongue. burial is the way his fingers twirl in mine, grasping my palm lines like they are static: breath stops, pauses like … Continue reading →

a haibun for mother & we trail each other’s spit through the grazed floors, calluses scorching on the pits of our feet. my mouth lays itself on each redneck snapper, tongue open in bidding sky as if each letter of … Continue reading →