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Jun 27, 2022

Poems of 2020 [Practice Reading with Vocabulary

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I am always busy wanting other lives — Claudia Delfina Cardona I thought whiteness was something I could grow into. At sixteen, I aspired to be a Mexican-American Margot Tenenbaum reading J.D. Salinger in the bathroom. I took so many photos of myself in the hope of finding someone else. I stare at the shape of my mouth and find my father. I stare at my silhouette and find a matriarchal lineage of longing. I feed pennies to the cosmic wishing well every night, and ask for a sliver of what it is like to embody desire. I wish I was the type of person who says, I don’t care what other people think, and actually means it. I don’t like admitting that white propaganda has caked itself onto my brain. Like a week old sunburn, I am peeling a little more every day. Once I swang at the Barbie-shaped piñata while my tío tugged at the rope. Her yellow, tissue-paper hair rustled in the hot March air while the next kid cracked her rib cage open. My brown friends and cousins watched her hemorrhage with strawberry candy I ate all week long—

IN MY NEXT LIFE LET ME BE A TOMATO BY NATASHA RAO 2021 Gregory Djanikian Scholar in Poetry lusting and unafraid. In this bipedal incarnation I have always been scared of my own ripening, mother standing outside the fitting room door. I only become bright after Bloody Mary’s, only whole in New Jersey summers where beefsteaks, like baubles, sag in the yard, where we pass down heirlooms in thin paper envelopes and I tend barefoot to a garden that snakes with desire, unashamed to coil and spread. Cherry Falls, Brandywine, Sweet Aperitif, I kneel with a spool, staking and tying, checking each morning after last night’s thunderstorm only to find more sprawl, the tomatoes have no fear of wind and water, they gain power from the lightning, while I, in this version of life, retreat in bed to wither. In this life, rabbits are afraid of my clumsy gait. In the next, let them come willingly to nibble my lowest limbs, my outstretched arm always offering something sweet. I want to return from reincarnation’s spin covered in dirt and buds. I want to be unabashed, audacious, to gobble space, to blush deeper each day in the sun, knowing I’ll end up in an eager mouth. An overly ripe tomato will begin sprouting, so excited it is for more life, so intent to be part of this world, trellising wildly. For every time in this life I have thought of dying, let me yield that much fruit in my next, skeleton drooping under the weight of my own vivacity as I spread to take more of this air, this fencepost, this forgiving light.

POSTCARDS FROM THE LIVING Jenny Qi I light incense on the stovetop, trail cinders through an empty house. I’ve decided to believe in the power of ashes: Here I am, buying fruit, mending torn shirts, brushing teeth in cramped bathrooms, living someplace new. Wish you were here. I sprinkle sandalwood dust on the ribbon from my first 5K, the token from my first solo trip— milestones so small and unremarkable, only you could understand and be proud. Remember world-history class, how I translated lectures to you each night, partly to practice, partly to keep you with me? Every day, there’s so much new I want to show you, like the spongy tang of injera, pork belly banh mi melting like butter on the tongue, all these places I have traveled without you so I can forget how without you I am. Remember when I was 10 and hateful, trying too hard to be cool, how in a rare moment you said all you wanted was for me to love my life, my only life, this life you started? Here, look how the clouds blush so fiercely; the stark blue winter, so cold and bright.

Heart medicine for courage When I need courage, I draw plants Like safety can be quantified in drawing, therefore knowing, weeds which grow in my yard, at the side of the road, in the arroyo In this dry gritty dirt where I sit, life springs up unadorned where animal or wind dropped seed, in the middle of everything Pencil lines arch, friction of hand slides over page, shakes loose what scares me As shape becomes form, confidence is inspired by stems flung open wide to sun Leaves bend in flow of breeze, shake loose, give themselves some room Tiny flowers at the end of long peduncle Entire plant, smooth to the touch Blue-green leaves notched at the margin Later, learn: Leaves edible, medicinal herb Papalo Quelite A practice to learn the secrets behind a name Fortitude unearthed by greeting what lives at my feet
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