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.