Why am I always
a needle
scratching the record
in every direction?
—Olga Mexina
A is for apple, of course
I learned that in my bilingual
kindergarten where I scribbled
on my notebook Adam
Eve & Eve. I repent
under a linden tree.
B is for Bodhisattva Guanyin,
who feeds me Manna
in my sleep. I keep confusing
one religion with another.
C is for certainty, I kneel down
every night
on my cattail hassock and pray
to no particular God.
D is for detonation, desolation, destruction, deflection,
DDDDs my psychiatrist jots down
alongside her Sunday
shopping list.
__ is for the erased and renamed.
____ versus West.
Sometimes I’m taught
to forget.
F is for f**ked up.
Which country f**ked up
my mind more?
Which direction?
Up or down? ____ or West?
G is for Gesus Christ. I misspell his name.
I don’t know if I believe in him.
I hug my elephant
Buddha and stroke her
tusks all night. Call her
M’Lady Ganesha.
JK is the short skirt I’ll never wear
for your feverish manga dream.
Just kidding, honey
you never know what
I’m willing to do
to myself.
L is for love
is always for
love.
M is for mwahaha. Dance with me M. Ganesha.
Or is that M. Guevara? I keep confusing
one lover with another.
N is for negation. Your Honor,
I solemnly swear that I’m telling you
everything but the truth.
So help me God.
O is for oopsy-doopsy. I spilled coffee twice
between Gesus’s legs.
P is for playboy playbills I hang up
in my dingy Columbia dorm.
A Chinese lesbian Casanova
The audacity of that!
R is for resurrection. I revive
after 7 days in the limpid blue ponds
of her eyes. Is the world
in her semi-transparent irises
always lighter
than mine?
O is for obsidian,
I changed my mind.
S is for selfish, self-centered, NPD lover.
Time to pack up your pocket-sized Gods
and Go Back to China! My dark-eyed
Casanova—you know it’s just a persona right?
T is for teamwork.
How to operate the ferry of Charon
with one broken shoulder
and sail backward
to no man’s land?
U should lend me a hand,
Will U?
V can do this.
V are second-rate
Vita and Virginia!
Honey, it’s time to give luncheon
to eight colonialist
representatives
whose silver forks carved a perfect X
on ancient china.
Where is the demarcation of bodies?
Y is history always so complicated?
Y is our history
so fragmented?
My love, when your hands map
the territories
of my body,
will you plant your British flag
high in my neck?
Z is my last name zigzagging
on your wrist.
Bend me backward
and make me
an arch
of language.
