2 Poems
Stella Wong
bottom
feeder, masked, butter, black.
a solitary hunter
in limited territory.
the steely-eyed elevator door cries
and the steel-nerved radiator leaks radiator
fluid. and sometimes piss,
as a barred hamlet would,
or a greater soapfish.
hunk
I bite you some coaster rings
linked like the olympics
from a blued out Ensō
to candied lemon rind
purpled with warp time,
bite you a watch
more sturdy than diving
with the mark of my beast
retained in a noble bezel rim,
bite you an bloodied arm band
of sinewy eggplant. ugly,
your father chews out
you, and you, him.
STELLA WONG is the author of Stem, forthcoming from Princeton University Press, Spooks, winner of the Saturnalia Books Editors Prize, and American Zero, selected for the Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize by Danez Smith. A graduate of Harvard and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Wong’s poems have appeared in Poetry, Colorado Review, Lana Turner, Bennington Review, Denver Quarterly, Prairie Schooner, and more.
The art that appears alongside this piece is by AMY RENEE WEBB.