FeastPoetry by Dana Fang
That’s right I was named after a high noon sun the women in my family sliced open the Fall melons the sweet scraps were thrown to the dogs and I arrived In my family lives are chosen for children before they are born and they said I was going to be a mother or a doctor Listen decide already I know that kindness is also a kind of violence The hand of a lover fondling my breast so the sounds I’ve bitten burst onto my tongue The gunny sack of love emptied again and again for the possibility of filling it with more A woman’s black hair can be mistaken for a serpent and must always be maintained I mistake the basin of water on the window for the moon the flies on my grandmother’s legs for a blanket It is not like the history I have forgotten matters more than the pieces I remember where I bruised and why the sunlight was red on that day I came home my baba said I wanted a daughter not whatever you are |
Dana Fang is a recent graduate of Oberlin College. They have gone to Chicago solely to be in proximity to their favorite lake, Lake Michigan. Their work can be found in Thin Air Magazine, The Susquehanna Review, The Voices Project, The Plum Creek Review and Wilder Voice. |
