Helen Qian is a senior at Richard Montgomery High School. Her writing also appears in Aerie International, L'Éphémère Review, Poetry Quarterly, and more. She has been recognized by the National Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, One Teen Story, the F. Scott Fitzgerald Literary Conference, and Hollins University, among others. In her free time, she's usually painting, reading, or trying to craft more interesting stories from less interesting personal experiences.

Also by Helen Qian: Two Poems


Helen Qian

map of a modern body

there’s a place in america where a boy dreams of crucifixion where a girl swallows her heart each night and pukes the goddamn thing in thirty minutes feel the place above their veins where pulse meets rhythm and wonder is this poetry abstinence is self sufficiency laid bare but blood turns cold without a body crescent moons bed themselves in keratin so dig in to flesh to blight if a kiss can’t mend lips split by familiar fists then perforated is ordinary i have no more questions only bullet holes swallowing life means i have nothing left to lose it means one day they’ll puncture my underside and find a hallowed venue visceral and caving it means why do we define cruelty if youth is a means to an end we harpoon want through our own lungs if you seek absolution there’s a place in america where it hurts to breathe




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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