Ivi Hua is an Asian-American writer, dreamer, & poet. A Pushcart Prize & Best of the Net nominee, she is the author of Body, Dissected (kith books, 2024) and cofounder of Young Poets Workshops. Ivi believes in the initiation of change through language.
My sorrow was such that I wanted to uproot the trees. Constellations
formed in my mouth, metal gleaming outside of the window —
the bullet revolving through the chamber. The pocketknife
in the cupholder of his car. My body collapsed to
the dead field, twin stars hanging from my head. That winter,
I watched the world from periphery. Turned Schrödinger’s girl:
there & not, lightless by the touch. Wasn’t it the truest form of existing,
to live in the between? I forgot the contraction of the aorta. Taught myself
to sing broken songs. The deer ate salt in handfuls, breath wet in the twilight.
I was bitten down to the quick: my eyes obelisks, nails severing
from skin, gouging odes from my throat. Sleeping bundled in fever, lips rubied.
The water never stopped coming. Every weapon an exploitation.
My eyes night stars. My eyes closed. The ending was always the same,
no matter how much blood I spilled: glass scattered
by the shore, the moon prismatic. His hands turned cold. Lost
in endless horizon, I was never free.