I watch my hands on the television screen
and dream death as a better alternative
to being held like the birth
of a girl. Oh, holy witness. For all I know,
everything that happened
only happened twice. I insist that they don’t understand,
that there is no you
here, but still, my dreams tuck the you
into their silhouettes. An unmistakable, perpetual
you, yet another man, the first man, who believes himself
to be God: generous creator of life,
but never thief of it. Because of this, I swallow
knots of dandelions to tear my spine. I vow
to take a knife to the body
of the sea and fist out its age-old answers to the universe,
to the wars and dying sun and warming ice.
Who deserves it? I was asked, when
what I wanted to know was What awaits?
For a body, like mine, with skin and nails? I want to believe
that my horrible disorder will not always
belong to me. How, still, I find myself possessed
by a primordial need —mistaking deterioration
for destruction. Time’s arrow: how it never leaves,
how I act out both ends anyways.
About the Author
Maggie L. Wang (王丽扬) is a high school student from Washington state who loves a good Spotify playlist and the intersection of different languages. You can find their work published in Ice Lolly Review or @wangwrites_ on Twitter.