I am giving myself away
as if the body were bread—
an invitation to communion. My name
is pronounced however you’d like. My lineage
negotiable whatever
is taught in history textbooks. Reborn
as Canton uprising peonies
Nanking carved into fractals. My blood
pooled in the cheeks of strange men
tasting like a handful of pennies: all swallow
and rust. This is what we called baptism
a study in pain tolerance. How long before the next
breath permutes becomes swollen carbon
– stillness against the back molars.
jasmine cui
Eucharist
Self-Portrait as Vincent Van Gogh
Love does not want this body
all bird blue and swollen
with hickeys. Naming itself
weeping bruise, saffron, strange
phenomenon. Unfurled
the head is something cruel
asking hands to practice quiet
erasure – sever ears
so that it becomes
a bearable truth.
Asks stomach to unravel into bone
bleach white.
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Jasmine Cui is 17 years old and is majoring in Political Science, Economics, and Violin Performance at SUNY Geneseo. She aspires to be like her parents who are first-generation Americans that fought an extraordinary battle for their place in this country. Her work can be found at The Shallow Ends, Glass: a Journal of Poetry, and www.jasminecui.com.
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