new york glasses boy asks questions
in auschwitz: were there americans in concentration camps?
in krakow: are europeans a race?
in budapest: are you okay? why don’t you want people to sing to you?
at dinner i hide from the orange rubber cake
people try to sing and i try to run
after much mulling over a recycled candle
i wish for a simple easy adulthood and contemplate flinging myself into the danube.

i wonder if he looks back on his life and feels
disappointment.
this man who calls two strangers his granddaughters,
strangers who can’t speak in his tongue and who know
nothing about him. not even his name.
to us he is ye-ye and not much more.

i wonder if i will cry when he dies.
ye-ye has heart problems
again, my dad tells me. his arteries are too small,
the blood can’t get through.
i don’t think i will cry

but i can sense my dad’s quiet panic.
it manifests itself in his voice,
the number of phone calls back to china,
his google searches on my laptop that appear on my phone.

he knows his father’s time is coming,
and guilt scratches at my throat because the tears don’t come.

i can feel the weight
of my flesh hanging
off of me. i am sick
of bloat. i hunger for
hunger, a disgusting
nostalgia for days of
colorless lips and
hair out in clumps
and shivering in the
summertime.

rookie girl
wearing mum’s shorts two sizes too big
black lace lingerie bought with a coupon code
and chinese granddad’s sandals
in a rush to meet him
on call
like a **** dog

callous *****
wearing black and mum’s loafers and heavy flesh
stands in front of the mirror ******* in
trying to find cheekbones
resolves to find a boy who will hold her hand
a boy whose bed she doesn’t have to leave
in the middle of the night
to crawl home
or
find no boy at all but instead
find strength and pride in solitude

but
at school
his little sister says hi
she tells herself:
don’t make eye contact
just dip your head further
continue
in a rush
with your tail between your legs

i got angry for the first time tonight
my friend said “let’s **** him”
she eats grapes
i try to eat poetry
meanwhile
the desire to destroy
overwhelming

alone i
click mercilessly
do nothing
**** with the door closed
look at my reflection
tear up a t shirt
change in and change out
play songs about ruined love and
try and romanticize
what we were
what we could be

.. really we were not much

on the train i sit next to a beautiful specimen
he is a young dark angel thing
a college boy perhaps
his hair is a wild curling black
but everything else made up of lines
even his eyelashes point downwards
i watch the view and his reflection in the glass
he doesn’t move
he rests his hands on his lap
palms pressed together
fingers lined up
eyes closed
chin lifted as if he is in prayer

the only thing worse than
being lonely and having no one
is
being lonely
having someone
and still
the feeling of having no one
persists