These three poems by Shiyang Su were penned on a sunny winter day, in contemplation and commemoration of the past, and of the future unknown…
by: Shiyang Su
Bathing
we should all clean our body like staggering crabs
hair intertwined with sallow weeds
ankle wrapped by red-violet mud
or a timid toe hobbled by sand cracked nail
wash them all with dark-green sewage
a wound left by a minor car accident
a bruise bitten by your gentle father
or a scar engraved by your patient teacher
wash them all in deep-blue saltwater
And scrub yourself in jiggly bubbles
let moisture burn your flattened breast
let abstinent fluid spur your wizened haunch
let bathroom light expose your sin of bareness
and sing a mournful ditty for your dying past
You might refuse and rebel
a body with traumas and memories should not
be washed like a dusty window of a broken car
You might deny and dispute
a flesh with stigma and strength should not
be cleaned like your gossipy neighbor’s stupid lawn
You might argue and attack
a soul with drafty core and shiny armor should not
be scrubbed like a humiliating brand on an aching arm
Yet
try to wash yourself, slowly and scrupulously
and feel the soft water fondling your flowery body
and feel the rosy shampoo kissing your tiny ribs
and feel the vivacious bubbles granting you human warmth
After all, please slightly open your musing mouth
and gather dropping dew from sunlit sprayer
a little pond in your mouth
a satisfied humming from your chest
After all, please gently wipe your freshly sewed up soul
and kiss your lovely body
and stroke your supple bottom
and love your fading bruises
For all you need
a room with flowing water
and whisper your past to go
Miss, If I
if I could afford your favorite necklace
gem azure like rippled Aegean Sea
soft edge to fondle with pledge
suck your porcelain skin and honor
elongated neck behind cinnamon tresses
if I could write sonnets like Shakespeare
adoring gaze for raspberry dusk
extol rustling zephyr in tender night
youth’s yearning heart
if it could find a way out
sweeping eyelashes and dimpled smile
if you like those stupid love letters
words steal from John Donne
zealous confession and deep piety
love too deep to drop the pen down
what to write and read and write
dumb thoughts and bald nails
obsidian eyes stamp in warmth of tongue
if you like me
like Shakespeare loves his sonnets
if you like me
like John Donne loves his mistress
like if you like me
my melancholic ode written by John Keats
like if you like me
my best poetry already and forever under
like young love suddenly fires
my eyes just cannot move away
Miss, If I.
A Place in Childhood
winding mossy road
where I picked up plumped nuts
and waited for my mother’s filbert cake
abandoned tree stakes
where I stopped for dandelions
and bit lip with sweet fluff
desolate bulrushes
where I lay under in September
and sniffed the coolness of fir
I pass through
I remember
damp wind in late August
boring crickets behind blue-green pond
running freely under raspberry dusk
muddy sole and violet ankle
looking back
sallow sun slowly sunk into shrubs
I find
my curving on an aged birch
was washed by a thundering rain
my favorite willow twig
was weathered by a heavy snow
For everything I once owned
they are slowly fading
into my memory
For everything I once remembered
they are slowly fading
away from my memory
delve deep down
a place in childhood
Shiyang Su is an international student who is currently studying creative writing. Her poetry has been published on Antimatter Dreams and are forthcoming on Neologism Poetry Journal, The Bitchin’s Kitsch, and Dreich Magazine ＆ Press.
