Two Poems by Angie Sijun Lou

last summer there was some hair in the tide

Sitting on a field of astroturf it’s too cold for July
You showed me

pics of pale girls in your secret folder to prove I’m
not your fetish

the spectacle of which has yet to be placated     In the
sanctity of protection

I come in pieces     Slant eye / kitchen knife / dry heave
I think most of

these relics when I’m not aroused     Hair parted harshly
down the center like

red seas     It’s the lexicon of morphology     How you are
you & I am the gap

I don’t say yes but too faded to notice the extra flesh
The mold of things

To come     Blossoming & kinda stubborn like god
I want to be less fake

but the blue moon shines thru my gaptooth     Do you
think Passivity

is a pretty name for a girl     There is some raw tofu spinning
in the microwave

Slippery like an oiled up whatever     Sorry I have to
go home soon

just not now

jessica gives me a chill pill

i kept waking up       on  different sides of         the bed           but   in    this       same     body
i have to say this      right away     so you know     it didn’t start            with                    limbs
slackened       hair oily             my cruelty towards         the sun       it started with            the
backseat       of jessica pepto       dismal     truck       she    tied           my hair      back     with
rubber bands    when   the freeway                passed           clean through    us                  pills
waxen    tinfoil    a hangnail       moon      I want  to    feel   like      a cherry blossom      tree
wobbling            under lightning       I want to                 go home before           the party gets
weird           last night     I laid     down          on   my bedroom floor       opened                 my
notebook &     wrote        do not read my diary         for twenty pages       till my          wrists
maybe that’s all        religion is      the    ceaselessness          in         how      I                    look
at    every      drop   of rain        before it touches        ground            the way        my     mom
mouths     my    name        in her sleep                eating          each syllable       like   a   minor
god                  jessica says           I’m a prude  cause I don’t inhale   quick   like her        sorry
I’m the type         of girl to keep          her nudes          on a usb drive         i    hope            one
day I   can   give you                  shards           cut pure & cleaner than me                but  today
I’m    making        mirage lakes      on the   driveway        I’m allergic to sunny D   and if you
are looking     for       a sign     I will take down        what I can         on the back of my hand

Angie Sijun Lou is a Chinese writer from Seattle. Her work has been published by Ninth Letter, The Rumpus, Hobart, Cosmonauts Avenue, Metatron, Peach Mag, Voicemail Poems, Yes Poetry, and others. She was nominated for the 2016 Bettering American Poetry anthology and the Pushcart Prize. This fall she will begin a PhD in Asian American Literature at UC Santa Cruz.

Image Credits: Katherine Bradford, “Diver Blue/Red,” 2012.

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