Chia-Lun Chang

The Desire of Being a Man

jump spin leap tiny bit little bare feet & repeat

wishing for the private space between we and a man
                       a pair of power to open cans like a hunter
                       the courage to win a poker face
                       the masculine shadow body

slim jesus
                       louder policy
                                                    morning white collar
                                                                                                 hairy braless

wider teeth
                           organic cum
                                                        meat packing
                                                                                        seats arriving as

tulips, sea lights, catchy extending horizons    
enlarge the maximum of greatest nouns         
magic to be the first claiming hire, breath, raise your hands, turn off the light,
follow my responsibility to fuck your    

softer armpit   
                              lower wall street
                                                                   wrinkled ambition

stare the candor the marble pose the imaginary mirror glare at
beer bottles, sniff answers

I am not your type of moon cake

I don’t carry shampoo around the office

I don’t buzz nor hide
in bound knees

I am not a kisser, nor a guard

my feet are wrong, my eyes are gone, my mother ultimately dies
no turning back way to stay around   


Oh you want is attention  

what a lie addressed to we

have believed both

stationary sights and unborn religious

falling stars own cheese cake territory

prevent it from salty ocean flavor

register for ten minutes grass inflammation

and feel great about

when you reveal, truth contains expiration

my dentist listened to Coca-Cola while I used to

breathe in nothing wrong with

capitulation, thirst

busy at ignorant    no time to like your curse

allow me to pretend leaving without wages

mapping comes alone, gardening mashes spring

brutal no need to be sorry

marriage without cooking a heart and caring a seed

to fathom one-way traffic signs

multiple souls flattered, slaughter habitual deer sorrow


I would never abandon you

We used to live in a
shithole as the softest mejiro
birds with cracked feathers
you mumbled before the sun came out
bit nails and swallowed
our green flood

I did crawl far away
further than any bird migration
but I would live inside
your swing shadow
until you
depart from
dirt and glue

Chia-Lun Chang is the author of One Day We Become Whites (No, Dear/Small Anchor Press, 2016), recent work appears in Pen America, Hyperallergic, Literary Hub, MuseMedusa, and Evergreen Review. She has received support from Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, The Center for Book Arts and Poets House. Born and raised in Taipei, Taiwan, she lives in New York City.