at once I am monolithic and incorporeal
Mother was wúyǔ, they say
I inherited her: nose, ears, lips.
Taut skin, jaundice-colored. Men
mistake affliction for ingots; they say
they are sick
with yellow fever.
Tongue is divination stick,
licking salt runes into
my chest. Confused
mouth calls 悲1 love,
calls 草2 sex. Oceanic,
my chest is full of gunpowder.
I am swollen sea cleaving
self into ions.
Lysis, the body spliced
into multiples to feed
five thousand. All Asian girls
are made of the same: jade,
parasols, rice, stoicism. I want
my own Lucy Liu to split
open like flypaper. Call
my silence willingness
not protest. Call me
没有名称3 not beautiful.
1 melancholy
2 grass
3 nameless
Jasmine Cui is 17 years old and is majoring in political science, economics, and violin performance at SUNY Geneseo. She aspires to be like her parents, first-generation Americans who fought an extraordinary battle for their place in this country. She has received national recognition from the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Her work can be found at The Shallow Ends, Glass: a Journal of Poetry, and at www.jasminecui.com.