by Daniel Lui
After China’s one-child policy.
the yellow-toothed women become brittle, their splintered prayers clutched in their throats like bullets in a red soldier’s rifle. they hem the temple, cradle their hunger like a bomb, ask sacred men to bless their swollen bellies with sons. because dutiful mothers should never bear daughters, the girls rot in the marketplace, maggots coating their bodies. sweltering bone, broken skin. if not blue mountains, then a river of tattered pink silk and homemade corpses. these open mouths. these sounds of summer, just the screaming of stolen girls.
here, the red sun rises the red sun–
Daniel Liu (he/him) is a Chinese-American writer from Orlando, FL. He is the founder and director of INKSOUNDS, an online interdisciplinary arts gallery. He was a 2021 COUNTERCLOCK Arts Collective Fellow, and his work has appeared in Kissing Dynamite, the National Poetry Quarterly, Hobart After Dark, and elsewhere. His chapbook, COMRADE, is forthcoming from fifth wheel press.