by Sha Huang
Conception
I was inside of her even then. As a point
of rupture, a follicle splitting apart her walls.
This was the beginning
of her hurt. The first time
he rutted against her skirt, in the parking lot,
tin cans still dangling from the bumper.
In a photograph
from the airport, she French braided her fingers
across her belly, tied the coat’s belt
like a tourniquet — as if she felt my body puncture
and applied pressure to the tear.
This was the moment I began
dividing myself. One perimeter opening to another
is a body defined by entry. She learned
to shut out the world
later that year. Holding a baby.
Sitting for a photograph, knee atop knee, one foot
locked behind her heel,
as if wrapping flesh
around flesh could seal a wound. My lips, suckling.
Her mouth closed — barely even an arc.
Lorrie Ness is a poet writing in a rural corner of Virginia. When she’s not writing, she can be found stomping through the woods, watching birds and playing in the dirt. Her work can be found in numerous journals, including THRUSH, Palette Poetry and Sky Island Journal. She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021 and her chapbook, Anatomy of a Wound, was published by Flowstone Press in July of 2021.
Sha Huang grew up in China. Her poems appeared in many literary journals and anthologies in China, North America, and Europe, including Muddy Review Poetry Review, Ekaphrastic Review, The Wild Word, and Chinese and Western Poetry (中西诗歌). She was a nominee for Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net 2021. She has a bilingual poetry book October Fruit (十月之果) with the Milky Way Publishing (银河出版社) in Hong Kong and her poems were rewarded the outstanding translated poems in the third Flush Poetry Festival. In addition to writing poems, she also enjoys creating art. Her art works were published Ekaphrastic Review and exhibited in Suzhou, China, Asheville, North Carolina, and Acworth and Kennesaw, Georgia. She currently teaches Chinese and Asian cultures at Kennesaw State University.