KRISTIN CHANG

as an azn grl i can confirm im ur fantasy

u, 2, can b post-bdy!!
let the camera suc u outta
ur skin like a seed
u, 2, can lern 2 touch urselff
in a movie theater 2
the pace of scarlett
johansson shooting a taiwanese
man for not speaking english
in tht movie Lucy:
deadeadead
deadeadeadead deadead
thank all the ppl
who have left u
for teaching u object
prmanence
for teaching u
ur not rrrrrlllllllllyyyyyy azn
if u don’t watch anime
& can drive stick
the secret to my hotness
is tht my father was a fire
until i sat on him
sure ill strip
snap the skin off my bones
& hang it up like the laundry
my grandpa wrked in a laundry
like me, he just wanted a g d
he could swallow. at night,
i empty my eyes
like pockets. i moan lone
moon loon
myself like this
thighs open &
a planet slipsss out
on this planet no one
will b ashamed, we will
all have breath tht smells
like surgery! & a hstry
of heart disease! i will
have health insurance
tht comes with superpowers
like a belly thts really
a car bomb or a mouth
thts also
an elevator button O
but really i’m harmless, i’m
azn grls can trace their bloodlines
back to gods & flowers
but my mother
was a house tht burned
empty & the smoke
thin as a cats ear
call ur mother
who tells u yet
another story bout
being chairman mao’s
mistress, the man who pruned
away her legs like branches
bough to the ground
grl, & remember
the flood tht brimmed
ur ribcage
like a fishbowl,
u, 2, can b post-bdy!!
the trick is to b nothing
left to savage, i am all
salvage, breasts
billowing in the bathtub
like plastic bags,
driftwood limbs
cutting the water
like a throat

in pine bluff, arkansas

a woman with a dog-
shaped shadow lets her organs out

for a walk around the block
my brother completes his engineering

degree, still hasn’t figured out
that people die in patterns

don’t blame the weapon, blame the war
my dad says, dangling from my mother’s

lips like a fishhook. I tell the neighborhood
dog I’ll eat him alive. I tell the corner

chink not to trust what is in our
bodies. I want tigerteeth and a visible history

I want to believe in alien life. my dad
played baseball until 1982

the year it rains live mice. the year
a flood climbs the house like a fever

the year vincent chin
takes four days to die

my mother forgets her chinese
name: littlest wind

my dad wanted to be a cop
but they thought he was vietcong

told him to lick all the bulletholes
off the dummy, called it target

practice. in texas, my dad buys
two guns, holds them until

they are hands. says,
don’t blame the weapon

blame the war. says,
please

tell me what the difference is

 

Kristin Chang lives in NY. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in The Margins (Asian American Writer’s Workshop), Nailed Magazine, SOFTBLOW, Vinyl, and elsewhere. She has been nominated for two Best of the Net awards and is currently on staff at Winter Tangerine Review. She is located at kristinchang.com