"No heads will be washed today, no houses swept
& don’t think about death: it’s bad
luck. I cast my numbers,
and as I age another year,
superstitions don’t hold their weight
anymore than voodoo heebie-jeebie
medicinal claims.
So come take me Year of the Monkey:
witty, articulate, passionate, youthful, vain, immature.
Make me happy with your promises
of luck and life
because it is Chinese New Year
and for a few blocks, the train
of pom pom girls, the Lowell High School band
and sequined Ms. Chinatown will pass
on the same streets where I opened my body
in the rattle of festivities, the creed
of color, the spook of flesh." ▼
Justin Chin (1969–2015), from “Chinese New Year” (via
poetsandwriters)
(via fypoetry)
