slumped in the crook of a nook, bereft
of lullabies and apple pie, playing duck duck
goose with my mind to find the smallest child
nested inside another then another until I
ring around the rosie back to myself. This
recess is cold. It’s like everyone vamoosed
to get to America first. Hello, what if we didn’t
want to go? All that’s left is an echo and a
banshee I hardly know. Some people say
hypnosis or past life regression therapy may
help, but I locked this chamber for a reason.
Ate the key. What is the shape of memory
that needs to be forgotten? Yet a voice keeps
calling: Let me out, let me out, let me out, let me
Copyright © 2022 by Su Hwang. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 24, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.