Becoming a better girl
The rain coughs phlegm down the
gutters, skittering your skin with layers
Of petroleum. How the distance
Between the clouds and the future
Is impossibly large. How you tried to
See your next lover, but only saw
Caught and hung upon hook hands.
You up whole, to pronounce the living
dead. Because you want to thrash yourself alive:
To thrash yourself out of your
And it burrows into your wrist, and you’re
Still laughing, hand flattened out into
An envelope with a name on it. Dawn is
crackling on the radio, your feet are stuttering
A little song; nothing else to do, love.
And you wanted it badly, sainting
your body until you were sour. This
was so you could let your skin roam,
deify, another birth, zipping it all
Back up, baby: we know that’s what you
Body as it falls off a highway. I sirened myself
Instead, the country’s very best whore. You’ve
Got to try me. You’ve got to see what I’m
Sharon Zhang is an Asian-Australian, Melbourne-based poet and author. Her work has been recognised by Paper Crane Journal, Antithesis Magazine, and elsewhere. She is a mentee at Ellipsis Writing and an editor at Polyphony Lit. Outside of writing, she enjoys collecting CDs, scrolling endlessly on her phone, and thinking about Deleuze a touch more than that which is necessary. She is the poet laureate of pretentiousness and using the word “body” when any other noun would work instead. Skin. Limbs. Humanness. Tablecloth.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.