pov: asian girl vendetta no. ∞
by Phoua Lee
there’s a muzzle pointed at them like the end of a long ship deck and when the girls
go down because a man demands they do by the power of his finger around
the trigger they do not think of gravity they think what are we leaving behind
they think will the world only know of us by what’s left on our bodies
BLOOD & METAL and speak of us in ghost tense in this crying weather
shame for shoes meek women worries lasso two mooncheeks for the chipper
cricket for the yellow skin of dumplings for chili oil vengeance let loose cornucopia
let loose trouble let loose molten chimera let loose fire grimmer than the spark
that made it
***
[it’s girl naivety to assume safety, but asian girls are another breed.
an older man asks me if i’m dragon lady or lotus blossom and i
scream human i’m human. recognize it, stroke yourself to it. one’s
humanity, or rather, the denial of it, has always been a kink to you]
(i rethink shoulder touches, shiver at strangers)
the hurt one human being can do to another
b&w cctv footage [(this wouldn’t have happened if you had a boyfriend)]
(i am also eternally paranoid and tyrannosaurus-jittery)
***
[REDACTED] has a tight pussy because [REDACTED] is asian meat. meat, i’m saying this like goods you can buy __ {swaddled/suffocated} in butcher paper. before you know a girl’s name you see her meat and __ {mistake/synonymize} it as meet. [REDACTED] files out paperwork for a new home, gets stalked, harassed. [REDACTED] __ {materializes/vomits} a katana. strike the unbecoming suitor. blade skills galore. (insert blood splot).
***
b&w cctv footage [(this wouldn’t have happened if you had a boyfriend)]
[raccoon smart / revenge in fistfuls / i’ll have ‘em by the throat]
the day after the spa shootings i reimagine reincarnation
as a thousandpupae. i peel oranges. i taste bitter. i recalibrate
home. i lay down my head. i chart wounds on my bedroom wall.
***
i was ashamed of my shame / my best friend in copper wires / asians get stitches / i choke like earthwater / they have her in cuffs / our captors joke / about losing streaks / my body trusted / not to open a door of circuitry / i flaunt / one mouth to wield / the grief of mothers / in this nation / that keeps pretending to win / by losing / captor’s sinew pulls / bubblegum thin / head pops / in a pinstripe suit / he teaches me / all the ways / i’m guilty for my body / miming / the stuff of virgins / strung together / by rowboats waiting / to take us home / my best friend at the bow / waving a katana / the glare of her blade / primordial / siphons spinal fluid / all morning / we huddle / listen to sea foam / bubbling our pores / hug / cry / fight / water expanding / in gesso light / we agree / we’re lost / with no map to begin with / no beginning to begin with
[i swear i only wanted to be braver]
(eschatology dictates we’re all the same under some deity’s wider foot)
(question of the day: what moves me? spite, hunger, and some inescapable form of)//];[\
***
on the third day, my index finger won’t stop shaking
i click in article after article i fret the spears
locate motives pinpoint the murder curve
no overlaps no gaps patchwork the coming manhunt
{i run into the night, dream of burials scythe}
[they would have you believe we’re meek]
after a man declares my genes are geared to patriarchy, i feel like vomiting
{lenticular cloud} {rephrasing dark matter}
i collect my pubic hair become all too aware of my body and what comes out i want to control what i lose consider: transformation into carp consider: mirroring smiles into the next dimension consider: crossroad syrup the next time a man touches my hair and calls it asian straight i want to carve heliospheres into every unassuming cheek lay my mark just to make sure these arms are my arms these legs my legs this anger my anger i’ve never been quick on purpose i opt for draggy pronunciations slow living but the trick to spotting a red sprite is speed the trick to spotting an ill-intentioned man is his eyes
throwing pebbles behind my heels
searching for
mom who had gone out for a lemon
i am suspicious of an unnamed man
laying his hands on her
the road curves like a hill
never-ending the fullness of it
eclipsing my shadow
folding me in two
open like a shriek
unstitching
it’s a myth / i have all the fortune / i could ever need / in the snake pit of my palm / the story goes / i offer an arm to mom / we fight back gibbons / catapult raw eggs / and decide / the raw eggs aren’t enough / so she detaches her foot / and has the whole world carouseling / and because she has no foot / i carry her / we run / the gibbons decide they aren’t man enough / they morph into silhouettes with cutlasses / i bleed out of every hole / every truth i’d ever swallowed / geysering / into a formation of some kind / ready to feast / fester / mom teaches me the magic behind hurdles / i ask her how / she survived in this world / but there’s no formula for that / she collapses from my arms / in pixels / i dig at ground / curse the bystander hermit / in our final act / we bow / into crescent folded napkins / take off by air / something resembling birds / nothing at all like it
[(limb-hunting tiger man)]
(what’s the secret to evolving past fear)
we make promises for invisibility: return missed phone calls
light salt & no butter never step out alone
pretend to read a book on the train
in the near-future-day i’ll be so vivid narwhals soar at my success
legit. i’d whip out scimitars and fend off flowerbuds, helicopter-mad
watching videos of elder asian women pushed into streets during covid
i buy puffier jackets for my mom i cut fruit tell her not to make eye contact
tell her to come home earlier wait for her at the door
suddenly she is the child in the yellow bus and i am every iteration of worry