Stephanie Chang is a poet from Vancouver, Canada. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Cosmonauts Avenue, The Adroit Journal, SOFTBLOW, The Penn Review, and more. Currently, she interns at Half Mystic Press.



Stephanie Chang

Nobody (2002)

after Mitski, Listen, the dawn will not hold your hand. Solitude chose you & not the dark. Take a pillar of salt on your tongue & throat it back- wards over flickers of light as waves course beneath the stomach. Lonely is a bow drawn in the wrong direction: The forest gloating & chewing all the missed arrows. Marigold & mud-broken glass will guide your way home to this fraying family, skull bits strewn on the floor & this too, can be art. Your face wilts under heaven’s spit. But dear, there is something so celestial about how isolation defies the stars. You dragon without a name. Listen, you orchestrated this song to play as a one-woman act. Crooned the world for real magic. This song is already an utterance unto universe. The making of martyrdom. You threw your old name off the bedroom roof centuries ago, sobered motherhood into your palm & self-answered these archaic prayers. Here, wait & crawl forth to the shore. The fish & flies anticipate. Child, I am always listening. Dress your body in a tide that runs like a footnote off the ocean’s cliff.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.