Week 35: Enshia Li
Fake Monk
After Cui Jian
I want to be pure
at all times. My mouth
a red dress, flailing
in the wind. My mouth
an open prayer, full
of salt & emptiness.
My mouth,
unstitched. This is all
I demand. Mother, I want
my bones to be sharpened
into song. So pure.
Mother, I want
every apology to fall
from my lips
like water. For there
to be rain.
Do you remember
the storms we caught
in our palms, crushed
until bloodied,
until it was
a fine red wine?
In the water, I saw her,
your daughter. The lightning
caught her like a fish.
An instant: the white
arrowed flesh, the ocean
& its hunger. I promise,
I tried. I tried
to catch her
by the hair. I tried
to bring her back.
Enshia Li is a sophomore majoring in English Literature at Stanford University. She hails from Toronto and a few other places. Previously, her writing has been recognized by the Adroit Journal, the Claremont Review, and the Poetry Society of the UK.