Helen Qian is a senior at Richard Montgomery High School. Her writing also appears in Aerie International, L'Éphémère Review, Poetry Quarterly, and more. She has been recognized by the National Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, One Teen Story, the F. Scott Fitzgerald Literary Conference, and Hollins University, among others. In her free time, she's usually painting, reading, or trying to craft more interesting stories from less interesting personal experiences.
Helen Qian
map of a modern body
there’s a place in america
where a boy dreams of crucifixion
where a girl swallows her heart
each night and pukes the goddamn
thing in thirty minutes feel
the place above their veins
where pulse meets rhythm
and wonder is this poetry
abstinence is self sufficiency
laid bare but blood turns cold
without a body crescent moons
bed themselves in keratin so dig in
to flesh to blight if a kiss can’t
mend lips split by familiar fists
then perforated is ordinary
i have no more questions
only bullet holes swallowing
life means i have nothing left
to lose it means one day
they’ll puncture my underside
and find a hallowed venue
visceral and caving it means
why do we define cruelty if youth
is a means to an end we harpoon
want through our own lungs
if you seek absolution
there’s a place in america
where it hurts to breathe
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.