I was born in New York City a slice of childhood in Hong Kong
I grew up in a world of cacophony blaring sirens past cement drills the subway below grumbles to their stops like grumpy old men Taxis like wasps wandering too far from their hive streetlamps, medley of glows waning, dirty bulbs next to yellow starburst-ing Filling the night sky with man-made florescence
We lost the stars
softer
She took us to the local butcher lifts her middle finger points at a specific piece of glistening meat My little face would scrunch up “Grandma don’t use that finger!”
We'd go into the mini grocer slide the glass door to the right and grab stubby packs of Yakult reach into metal claw cage for cellophane wrapped
Hawthorn Flakes
I liked to nibble them, ant size Until the disc disappeared
My sister licked them to a soggy death you never liked them
Shades of green in a capsule living inside Central Park I had a severe allergy to pollen heaved vomit on a school trip from the scent of cut grass hives on my skin grows into a fragile steeliness fast and sharp, a rat race slammed the brakes on turns, spinning toward- until I left from restlessness
We went to visit Hong Kong as adults the silent buzz in the air inerrant my body remembers somatic I’m inside a double decker bus frozen I watched my view twist into a funnel tightly packed, highly organized
No air
The man in the sweat slicked t-shirt had humid bug eyes rolls of symmetrical skin folds against white mounds floating in milk grotesque beauty
we did not make it to taste the famous roast goose lost in a tornado of silent perspectives, clashing
Fragments pieced, together people on the sleeve of time pulled close to spread- seeds germinating through lifetimes
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 