With love


Laced With Fists: Published in Z Publishing House's "Best Emerging Poets"

You sit down to dinner and the world stops. The last

supper. I gave you a handful of fresh persimmons,

chopped cilantro, and stiff beansprouts—to hard to chew.

You are meant to swallow whole.

The saccharine sharpness

from sweet apple seeds laced with cyanide

has been wrapped up.

I wanted to tell you before dinner,

I have a mouthful of flies, a swarm stuck

in my cheek.

I wanted to tell you before dinner,

I unleashed them into your throat.

My mother told me not to play with dead things.

You forgot to un-ash when you died.

Elizabeth Hsieh