The photographer took my photo and claimed
I’m the immigrant dwelling
inside his essential project;
I took a picture of my blood orange cocktail,
Revolución, in front of the NYC skyline and labeled
it in my album.
Never owned a cock nor overthrown any art forms,
this savory drink soured to
hen blood, truth or dare
Tweaking my cheek with the same posture as
the photographer pressed the steering wheel
securely on his imported car.
I requested of him,
Sir, I no longer want to participate since
it’s dangerous to expose my condition.
The butterfly net in the same position as
the camera blocks your view. Look out!
The ladybug perches on my face is alive &
not for catching.
This male American photographer wouldn’t let me withdraw
due to a previous misconception
he grasped my legs and complimented his exotic ex-wife casually
I rebuff to sell my wounds or I shall be the seller who
sets a price.
How beautiful, you’re still a monster that
submits to my amusement.
Bees collect resin outdoors,
westerners preserve the time in a jar.
Cracking me to your gold fever,
insects keep shivering in the wild.
Everybody is invited to the exhibition.
CHIA-LUN CHANG is the author of One Day We Become Whites (ND/SA, 2016). Recent work appears in the Apogee, Sink Review, Brooklyn Poets, and Poetry Society of America. A Jerome Hill Artist Fellow, she has received support from the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, Tofte Lake Center, Cave Canem Workshop, Vermont Studio Center and Poets House. Chia-Lun teaches contemporary Taiwanese poetry at the Brooklyn Public Library and writes for chatbots. Born and raised in New Taipei City, Taiwan, she lives in New York City. You can find her at https://www.chialunchang.com/.