Sonnet Sequence for the Patriarchy

I. Glitter Revolution

You’ve held this knife to my throat, padre, so long that

the handle in your palm must feel like

prayer. These threats harmonize into

hymns. The blade reflects like a mirror yet you

tell me what to see. No longer, hermano, will I

press my lips to it, beg through steel. 

I seize it in my fists and crush it to 

dust. Mixed with my blood it glitters indignantly 

pink. I cup the sand in my hands and blow it into

the air. It billows into a constellation of my desire

then sprinkles like chile powder from 

generous fingers. I catch shards on my tongue 

as it coats your skin in flame, marido: a reminder

of your cage, shattered by me.

II. 秋瑾

爸, unbound me. Even if 

I asked for my body, I would leave it. Departure is 

the best antonym for girlhood. My lower stomach landscapes 

rifts to remind me I’ll never unmother. 爸, I’ll save an apology

for my next poem. Or the one after. Dinner means 

surrender to broiled pig belly and starve for happiness. 

爸, I’m hungry. I want to write my own elegy, 

man my own body until a girl pleads to inherit it.

A country is only whatever I make of it. A culture is only 

a needling of lineage. A woman’s spirit is a stray 

on the run. An autumn rain abound with desire. I’ll arrange 

my next meal. Call it freedom. 爸, I promise I love you 

like I love my shadow, the perpetual stranger 

that hungers behind me. 

III. Intent

You’ve held this knife to our throat, padre, so long that

if we asked for our bodies, we would leave them. Departure is 

prayer. These threats harmonize into

rifts to remind us we’ll never unmother. 爸, We’ll save an apology

— tell us what to see. No longer, hermano, will I

surrender to broiled pig belly and starve for happiness.

We seize it in our fists and crush it to 

man our own bodies until a girl pleads to inherit them.

Pink, we cup the sand in our hands and blow it into

a needling of lineage. A woman’s spirit is astray, 

then sprinkles like chile powder from 

our next meals. Call it freedom. 爸, we promise we love you 

as it coats your skin in flame, marido: a reminder

that hungers behind us.