– Jane Wong –
Sun-soaked apogee, cloud map of the mountains
I am making my way in Montana but what about the ocean?
Heavy precipitation as if the sky was on loan
Above, a plane circles continuously as if refusing land
I have refused snow and cold men
I have refused my Chinese name because I am afraid
I am pronouncing it wrong
How trite shame sounds when I hold my face in my hands like everyone else
Like everyone else, my mother leaves her stockings drying along the tub
Outside, the ears of dogs are sloping in the wind
As quiet as leaves packed under snow, my mother sleeps, my hair grows, she wakes, my hair grows
My hair grows so long, I have no use for warmth
I have no use for a magnifying glass
Over the heart to see enough to burn a little