if Achilles could catch
the tortoise, he would probably
skin it alive for making him
chase it for millennia.
the taunt of a mottled tail
could drive anyone mad, I suppose.
in our house of a bone-worn dog,
we blow gently before we sip.
the gap between our acrid lips and the matcha
never closes. in fact, the limbs
of the space grow, feeding into our obedient noses,
tangy in the small holes of our skulls. Above,
this monkey-faced moon never fails
to make me feel unwhole. unholy,
if I tried to shy from its unabridged sight, maybe
I would come face to face
with bitter Tantalus, so close
to the white Assyrtiko grapes, so far
from feeling merciful juices between teeth.
maybe, in that dark crevasse, I would curl up
in my mottled shell, and eat
the flesh of the side of my mouth instead.
I’m sure it would taste
like repentance.
Sarah Zhang is a Chinese-American rising sophomore living in the Philippines. Surrounded by a community filled with diversity, Sarah aims to share the vivid aspects of her cultures through her poetry. Her works have been accepted in Eunoia Literary Journal, the Daphne Review, K'in Literary Journal, the Heritage Review, and have been honored by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. In her free time, she plays tennis with her sister, and likes New York style pizza.
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