Poetry by Bunkong Tuon

               fluffisch CC



​Mirror
 
One night, I stood 
in front of the mirror,
feeling so alone, ugly,
and angry at my brown 
teenage body, so dark
in a sea of whiteness.
I thought to myself: 
What good is this mirror
that brings only suffering!
I’ll break it with my fists
and welcome seven years
of bad luck.  It’s better
than what I have now.  
 
 
 
  
 
diary entry before high school graduation
 
skip classes
to skate all day 
and all night.
no girl.
no sport.
music is 
life.
in your head
you make up characters
acting out conversations
you wish you had.
alone
always
alone.
everyone
is white.
everyone 
is your enemy--
even Mr. W
who stays
after school
for study sessions
you never show up for,
who called your home one day
and spoke to a grandmother
who didn’t speak English.
you are
hyper-
ventilating,
manic
depressive,
suicidal.
the other day
you went
to the library
in search of meaning,
but the characters 
don’t look like you,
don’t have your stories. 
graduation’s
tomorrow:
scared shitless
afraid
no skills
so unprepared
for this 
fucking world.

​

Bunkong Tuon is a Cambodian-American writer and critic. He is the author of Gruel, And So I Was Blessed (both published by NYQ Books), The Doctor Will Fix It (Shabda Press), and Dead Tongue (a chapbook with Joanna C. Valente, Yes Poetry). He teaches at Union College, in Schenectady, NY. He tweets @BunkongTuon

---