Dear Laoban,
I think of writing of writing of writing poetry to people to people you writing poetry for people you writing poetry for me. These people are not yours are not family are all lovers are all enemies. Dear Laoban these people are people are people are
Oh, Victoria, I’ve lost my way I’ve lost my way I’ve lost my way. I sit and write to people for people all enemies and lovers for family and fools where people might see me one day. I sit at my desk and your words are hard to read like cobbled together audits and love letters to the dead. I fear you’ve lost yourself in memories like father and
I plead for you, plead for your hand, plead for your love cease this toil and let your eyes rest on mine but oh Huayi, your mind is a confusing place confused me confused your father and I cannot help but fear your inheritance.
Your father scowling like my father scowling like my father forgetful like my father diction like my father’s inaudible in the night bent over the magnifying glass he sees 1942 a model my grandfather saw 1942 and he survived he survived he survived he survived
I sit at a desk not your desk my desk my room and I try to gather inspiration but today I am not the writer do not feel like writing and my writing feels wrong my words feel false my voice feels more yours than mine your voice is a .
I am thinking of writing poetry for people writing poetry to people writing poetry for people people that are mine and never were who I hate and always loved
writing poetry for people that will never read your words
or mine
Still, I thank you,
Kiera McCabe
Kiera McCabe
Kiera McCabe is an transnational Chinese American adoptee who’s found her share of skeletons in the past five years. Her writings deal with grief and longing for family from before and after. She is currently a Social Sector Leadership and Diversity Graduate fellow at NYU. She can be found on Instagram @Kieraosity
Cosmic Double 