Stephanie Cui is a 16-year-old from Rochester, NY (not the city!) She enjoys photography and plans on studying graphic design in the near future. She has also worked as a stage manager!





Stephanie Cui

嫦娥 Explains Her Origin Story

It begins in abundance and ends in vacant wheelbarrows. The man chose a wealth of fruit his body and not another's. my limbs and not another's We call this self-preservation, they call it treachery always giving my memory new names. Once, I was a mother — perhaps you knew this. The story where I: breastfeed my son / skin the infant alive teach him to teethe / pick each bone clean save him / swallow him like a pill They tell it in rapid succession, so often that even I forget where this begins. Now, I cannot recall the history of my becoming. The full moon birthed from my lips — wet and foaming, hissing pearl. Instead, I am telling a creation myth in reverse. The boy-god sinks into his mother. She stomachs her covenant. Unswells. Swallows the milk and honey. Asks her bones to unspool into atoms into light. And exiles whatever is left.

"An ancient legend says a beautiful Chinese girl called Chang-O has been living there for 4,000 years. It seems she was banished to the Moon because she stole the pill of immortality from her husband." — Houston Capcom, 1969 Once, 嫦娥 (or Chang'o) was confronted by Fengmeng, her husband Yi's rival. Swollen with jealousy, Fengmeng demanded Chang'o give him the elixir of immortality. A chance at forever — one she'd meant to share with Yi. Here, Chang'o was made to choose: sacrifice or self-preservation. She chose the latter. Some vilify Chang'o for her decision. After all, she'd consigned Yi to mortality — certain death. Before the first moon landing, Houston Capcom explained that the crew of Apollo 11 should watch for a lovely girl with a big rabbit. She is there because she has stolen from her husband. This was the crime — her exile the punishment. In telling her story, we have warped it. Whether conscious or not, we have robbed Chang'o of her agency. We forget that she chose her lunar quarantine. I do not blame her. Not for choosing life, not for choosing herself.



Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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