Fantasy Magical Realism poetry

Swallow

By Hal Y. Zhang
Mar 7, 2019 · 99 words · 1 minute

Dry me Sun, the water was cold!

Photo by Zoltan Tasi via Unsplash.

From the author: My first published poem. Food, reincarnation, mothers and daughters.


I am thankful to not be a fish
          again in this life.

When I see a restaurant tank
my jaws swell in remembrance
gulp ice water like air

It could be worse, my dear
my mother’s port-wine birthmark
ripples around her neck
as she waves her fork
She does not eat beef.

My daughter is inside me,
the size of a peach.
At night we dream of falling.

It is not to be feared
because her wings
beat us aloft, one-two
as we step down from the sky.

Was I delicious,
she asks as we pluck
          cloves from her hair and skin.

Very.

This story originally appeared in Uncanny Magazine.


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Hal Y. Zhang

Hal Y. Zhang distills weird word things straight from her subconscious.