Sabrina Guo

open your breastbone, persistent lightning as Pa

talks his mouth to rust. You always drank




sweetness puckering your skin like marmalade. Imagine

if I’d bitten our umbilical cord and held




as it formed, as Pa loosened your tongue.




You would’ve baptized yourself, calculated

the distance you could’ve lassoed your hair




around Pa’s neck. You would’ve torn out

my spine so he only had yours to worship.




From the nest, Ma, I can reach your thighs,




hold the wrinkled folds until they ebb. Can’t you see

the sea wall to sea, Ma? You were coating

your mouth in plum juice, waiting for God




your stomach’s pregnant sky. Until your eyes




Poetry