魚 Here’s a fish with salt
食 on his shoulder
男
子 the ocean’s best
tasting son. His meat
a test of stamina
in a city ceramic.
Overshadowed
by glowing Fukushima
plumes. Waiting
for low tide with
a bloated moon
on his back.
I’ve been grilled
over my own
sadness.
I’ve been
my own patch
of drought grass
seams split by
someone else’s
heat.
The serrated edge
of patience
and my belly its
nest.
After this, I have no guts
to tie, no sausage joy.
I’ll drive your bus
into the barbeque
pit and burn clean
through the bones
your true-blue
dinosaur charcoal.
Wrap yourself in sugar
barnacles.
You’re encrusted with tacks.
With snacks.
I’m here to write
a different man.
Shouldn’t we taste like
warm, milky milk?
Drift into me
fish. I’m the sweetest
seaweed you’ll ever
lick. Your devoted
brackish coil of stars.
Your boss radio signal
aimed
galactic north.
from Monsters I Have BeenFind more by Kenji C. Liu at the library
Copyright © 2019 Kenji C. Liu
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.