– 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