I’ve been taught to treat my body
as an exhibition, skin sculpted
into an altar as eyes become
nothing more than sockets for
hands to poke at. Look at the
congregation of visitors around
me, their shadows straying
to the sides, flirting with
the ghosts in the glass coffin
next door. Here, I cannot tell
you how my mother soaked
my swollen limbs in ginger
to preserve the softness,
whispering this is how it’s
supposed to be. It is not enough
to dream of reincarnation
as a nightingale in the forgotten
stories, asking for repentance
in this foreign land where
they only repeat my heritage
as if to mock.
Jessica Kim (she/her) is a young Asian writer whose work appears or is forthcoming in Eunoia Review, Perhappened Magazine, Clover & White Magazine, Minute Magazine, Rising Phoenix Review, and elsewhere. She enjoys watching historical movies and eating lemons.
Image: Film still from “Outline 1” by Alan Coon
Pine Hills Review 