Sour-Sweet Sonnet

Jingyi Wang

My father rushes home only to find me 
asleep in bed, curled around a bowl of white
rice, red braised pork belly, rages, throttles,
my only father rages, This is how the dying eat.

I peeled back the summer plums one evening, 
crushed purple grit on linens, lucid, living. 
I tasted the sour-sweet dribbles on my knuckles then
watched them stain, spread, allowed myself restfulness:
I unfolded the cloth and realized my fortune, fragrant, like leaves.

Ten years ago I held a grape against the hard roof 
of my mouth, sucked on it until morning. 
What does it matter how tender the body? 
I feast whatever way I can. 


Jingyi Wang grew up in Seattle, Washington. She's a second-year student at Brandeis University, majoring in computer science and creative writing. She loves reading poetry!