I TELL THE STORY OF MY LIFE TO A GLASS BOTTLE AND LEAVE IT ON THE BEACHFRONT
The third law of thermodynamics calls erosion
an inevitability. Comes through brutality quiet gnashing
of electrons gnawing on thick paracord.
The tongue is a wave my birth name
a shoreline. The two joined in perpetual conflict.
Stormwaters move one step forward. I move
two steps back. Until there is
no space left to occupy —dissolution.
Listen, he said, I am no Jew, but once I stuffed myself
so full with challah and matzah that I ballooned
into the Hindenburg. Blame Darwin
Shame is insular and self contained. Listen,
she said, I am no washing machine, but I eat
detergent because of the seventh grade. See: case study
in wretched. Prepubescent corpse: formless,
fat, hormonal. I was brace-faced,
sexless and wanted to commit arson
in the safety of a laundromat. Lemon fresh,
my rubber stomach is squeaking latex.
Listen, I said, I am no hooker,
but I swallow strangers
whole. Tongue curried in saliva, I am cumin
seeds, split against the slits of their mouths.
Splayed legs, the aftermath
of a railroad spike. Splintering wood, the rest is cataclysm.
JASMINE CUI is seventeen years old and is majoring in Political Science, Economics, and Violin Performance at SUNY Geneseo. She aspires to be like her parents, who are first-generation Americans that fought an extraordinary battle for their place in this country. Her work can be found at The Shallow Ends, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and www.jasminecui.com.