Poetry, Irisa Teng
this body was not designed for hate
being a simple creature the way I fold
at any square of kindness like a backstitch
regretting every grudge. taught myself
a billion different ways to fold the quilt
of love and even still none creased as neat
as the time-fabric of forgiving. taught myself
too many tricks to repatch grease stains
and forgot how to live with the strings unpulled.
but this body was not built for hate
it was built to cry on the coasts of ithaca.
this body was not built to fight
but for a golden hour. sunset spilt
like orange juice over my bed sheets like ants
following a trail of tiny stitches back home
and i linger at the window still waiting
for a reason to shoot anything other than a camera
Irisa Teng loves a good physics metaphor. From the Pacific Northwest, their work can be found in Lucky Jefferson, The Cloudscent Journal, Sophon Lit, Frighten the Horses, and others. They have been recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists and Writers and the Nebraska Poetry Society and can otherwise be found scarfing down peaches, musing about the ever-expanding universe, or at @sun.risn on Instagram.
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