
I am Chinese in America, so
I have the virus.
Micro parasites with blunt, clustered
flowers bloom destruction and delusion.
An explosion of atoms caused their existence.
I am Chinese in America, so
I do not belong here.
Told you so, in 1882,
Our clanking, rusty pipe dream for acceptance attacked and
excluded, with the flourishing wave of a fountain pen,
Enacted in an Act.
I am Chinese in America, so
I deserve to die.
Smothered by a hallucinating shroud of fear,
slaughtered raw. My ancestors
bleed scarlet from the drought in their veins,
liquid dreams soaked in the concrete drain.
I am Chinese in America, so
I am next.
With a roving target on my back,
despair pooling between my defeated shoulder blades, I am
Next to stand tall, speak up, act out.