he’ll find a girl eager to read him medicine labels,
job applications, maybe even poems. He’ll fall
in love with this stranger, she’ll birth him a healthy son
for all the ones Hannah could not, would not, carry.
A girl who doesn’t hiss, scream, throw things,
burn his self-esteem to ash. Someone
who coddles him, a good girl he could marry.
But she hopes she’ll always be the Queens girl of his dreams.
Past
You and I. We remember different stories.
The past is a burning book.
I’m unlearning the fairy tale — Angel — letter by letter by letter.
A shiny boy, cheap as a coin. If I rub the gleam off, are you copper or gold?
Does it matter, if I hold you in my heart-pocket
as a girl~child holds an amulet? What are we to each other?
Magic that conjures joy, halts the loneliness.
A lucky penny pulled shining from an ear.
And, wait, something heavier comes out. Night-grief.
Ancestral grief. Being called out our names, the spic-gook grief.
Being robbed of our sovereignty, colonized grief.
Oceans from our motherlands, diaspora grief.
Being two separate islands grief.
Still. We glow gold. Two flames. Bright and brief.
Until morning breaks our spell, Angel,
I dream of you holding me in this forgiving light.
Gold Hoops
One day she will be brave enough
to venture away from her huge gold hoops & bodysuits,
from parroting her mean friends’ laughter, or sitting on the stoop
for hours, trying to look half-fly/half-tough,
sucking on a sour apple Blow Pop,
listening to the boom boxes spit out hip-hop.
One day she will
look at her rough, scarred face
without her MAC eyeliner and stop
hating those young, haunted eyes.
I hope a slant of gold light will hit her cheek
just right, and it may come as a surprise
to her how fine she really is. Fabulous. Sleek.
Soulful — full of her own juju and mystique…
a rose fury! Gold lightning when she hits the street.
Girlfish
She’s gone. Like a woman entering a pool,
her body erased with each step.
What’s left? A gold shimmer.
Now where will a lost boy fish for angels?
Not in stained-glass or god-songs.
Yes, he is alone in his city,
sidewalks parched as desert.
Oasis: glimmer of girls by Kim’s Nails.
Mirage: every girl, an empty glass.
The closer he gets, the more thirsty.
His vision wavers. He scans the river-street,
searching for a girl in the shape of a salmon,
one who can break his
surface with a wild hallelujah of water.
Epic
(What if Angel was a true prince, not a mere
street king? And Hannah, a princess instead
of the daughter of poor Korean immigrants
who painted nails on Queens Blvd? Would we
altar their love higher, deem it Epic?
A new legend to toss skyward to salt our
constellations, not one to ball
into a fist or chuck in the dumpster. Spic
n’ chink, one might call them, from afar…
but peer closer: a soul and a soul.
He folds over her like a rosebud in sleep.
She traces her finger over his sad map of scars.
If America let them, would they spin fast & gold
as a Celia Cruz classic, lilting songs into the sea?)
Ski
Lucy in the sky with diamonds, he thinks
a song his mother used to sing,
diamonds tossed in snow wink
at him like these coy, bright-eyed girls on Hunter Mountain’s summit.
He inhales the iced air, frost-trees,
and when he glides down the mountain’s soft shoulder, his
tracks hiss spume like speedboat on lake~water —
he is black dolphin! Sea hawk! Any fierce, finned, winged thing, he shears
air with silver limbs like god-scissors,
wind singing a pegasus aria in his numb ears.
This fast, he could outrace death! Or fling
himself straight into its stark eyes. Unafraid, he floats in midnight sky above
whitecaps, slopes, gravity his only compass, he’s flying past fear
to a different music now — holy holy dark angel taking wing!
Jackie Robinson Expressway
The highway is a silver ribbon threaded
through a lush hair of trees. She gets lost in its curves,
its shushing becomes her night music.
She’s older now. She drives one-handed.
She knows these turns, seen them all before.
No longer a wet-lipped girl fidgeting
in livery cabs with Dominican drivers
who reek of Brut cologne and wink into the rearview.
She rides alone. Until sky breaks open. A greening
light. An empty highway she rides between dusk and
dawn, distance and time, watching the sun anoint
treetops, watching eyes of dull apartments catch aflame.
She drives, a silent witness with no name.
Every time, it’s like being born again —
Soul
I can’t believe you wasted so much time, Wanda sighs,
and Hannah remembers now, Angel’s eyelids trembling
like sails when she rocked above him, a maidenhead
tied to ship’s helm, hit by sprays of salt water, foam, lightning.
How loving him made her learn the world —
a girl moving her fingers against the rough Braille
of welfare, food stamps, Rikers, probation. Dim, dim,
it brightens then — Bushwick, her harsh-lit
classroom rife with his tiger-scent.
How loving him, she moved
from girl to flesh to martyr to dagger
to stone to water to woman.
Yes. Woman.
And would she call those years a waste,
or a small taste of heaven in a man ~ made hell?
Aigu, Wanda. You will never know my soul.
Desiree
Years later, Angel finally gets with Junie’s lil’ sister ~ Desiree,
who had an eye on him since lil’ kid days.
With Desiree, Angel didn’t have to be “better” ~
or hide his “dirty” habits ~
he could be free ~
like he was when they hugged & screamed
& played Cocolivio together back
in the summer of fourth grade ~
they always chose to hug each other, those two ~
got three babies now, lotsa big drama love scenes too,
like when Desiree made him tattoo a dragon
over Hannah’s name
to start a new story…
While he sat under da hot pen (again),
he realized he was scripting his life
with another woman now ~
Desiree was tough, into sexy
goth, punk, metal, & black leather…
she wasn’t a runner ~ she was a fighter.
She would stand by her man
and live on her block with her familia forever
and survive da rock, crack, and heroin games.
She became his new ma, and in divine time,
they lived out their own chaotic, epic Legend.
(But sometimes, when Angel was alone & high,
late at night, after three blunts, two Coronas, & in a nostalgic mood,
he wondered where she flew off to…
she was too soft for New York, he thought ~
more of a Cali girl vibe…she hated
da bars on the windows everywhere in Brooklyn ~
Ugh. Looks like cages, she said, more than once ~
I gotta get outta here ~ it’s too cold, too crazy for me…
We have choices!
We have a right to live happy!
And I’m gonna carpe diem, yo,
by any means necessary!
Hannah used to proclaim, loudly,
dreaming of Berkeley and beaches,
shouting things at him crazily
while he grins, things
she wishes she could yell
at her pressure ~ cooker parents.
He wonders
if she has babies now too, or if she
just lives free as the wind still,
untethered & lost
as a golden ribbon
unraveling from a bouquet of heavily thorned, stunning roses ~
He secretly wonders: What became of the golden girl
who whispered songs & rhymes into his ears
and wanted to become air?
Who inhaled & kissed his warm temples
and grazed his long lashes with the grace of a gazelle?
A young girl who transformed into woman
at dusk with his touch, swaying over him like coconut fronds,
riding him like ocean waves till he filled her with stars?
He felt, at heart, she was far, far away…
After he tattooed a dragon over her name,
he brought honey & white daisies
for the Goddess of the Sea
who Jessie told him is Yemaya ~
when the familia went to Coney Island,
he took a moment to walk out to where shore meets sea alone,
and silently asked the sea ~ goddess to watch over & protect
Hannah’s many journeys as white petals
floated over water, fragile & lovely ~
slowly carried out by the rippling waves.
Por amor, mi amor.)
Desiree comes up behind him,
locking her arms around
his lean, rippled waist.
He lets out a deep sigh,
kisses the mother of his three
angels on her forehead,
takes her hand, and walks
with her back to their children,
whose little hands are busy
making a round castle in the sand.
Prayers
From lifetimes away, from islands apart ~ she still
wonders about her Angel as she holds a handful
of tiny, intricate shells in her hand ~ remembering
their summer days at Coney Island Beach,
she wonders if he’s caught
still living a stoned ~ dream ~ haze
or awakened to the beauty & possibility in being alive ~
she still prays for him and his family ~ his children ~ the future generations
to inherit his heated, hunted, dancing blood. Wishes
him well from afar. And Rafi ~
sweet Rafi. Last she heard, he lives ~
lives on ~ loves on ~ so beautifully
into his teens. New medicines work miracles
daily ~ days & years continue on ~
& Hannah ~ she flies alone to a distant island
to birth a new story. A new bloodline. A new legend.
~ for all lovers ~
Acknowledgments
Aloha. I would like to express my deep gratitude to my dear friend Bushra Rehman for teaching these poems in her writing workshops, and to Nicole Counts for being the most brilliant, insightful, and compassionate editor I could ever ask for.
Deep gratitude to Chris Jackson, Victory Matsui, Ayelet Gruenspecht, Jordan Pace, Mika Kasuga, Oma Beharry, Steve Messina, and everyone else at One World and Penguin Random House who found beauty and truth in this story, for helping me bring this love to a larger audience. My heartfelt thanks to Clare Mao, my amazing agent, for all you do to bless my journey ~ mahalo nui loa sister.
Special thanks to the amazing Kamilah Forbes and the talented DJ Reborn for helping me to bring Angel & Hannah to life from page~to~stage at the New York Hip-Hop Theater Festival, for allowing these poems to dance & breathe, and for creating a loving soundtrack for my sonnets.
Gomapsimnidah to Sunyoung Lee and Juliana Koo of Kaya Press, publishers of my first book, The Temperature of This Water. Saranghe.
Sarang to Theresa Hak Kyung Cha (rest in peace) & her work Dictee, which moved me deeply as a Korean American woman, a line of which (“a stone leaping into the sea”) is loosely referenced in this novel.
Abrazos y amor siempre to Little Nelson Abreu, Nicky Nieves, Irma and Gloria de Jesus (rest in peace), y familia. To Karin Castillo, Mabel Tso, Celinda Casanova, Bianca Gomez, Fay, Wendy Cartagena, Jessica Cruz, Norlene Cayetano, Laarni, Natasha Netto, Kuem-Hee Rhee, Sze Pui Cheng, Sarah Ra, Zola Zakiya, Sonya Payne, and Jeanne Choi ~ my sisters for life! <3 Thank you for growing with me, ladies ~ saranghe. My love always to the Asian American Writers’ Workshop for raising me, and to all the amazing artists, musicians, singers, emcees, and poets through space and time who have inspired me and have influenced my poetry and the writing of this novel. My deepest thanks to You ~
Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Sonia Sanchez, Joy Harjo, Ntozake Shange, Jessica Hagedorn, Arundhati Roy, Maya Angelou, Eric Gamalinda, Oliver de la Paz, Ai, Nas, Lauryn Hill, Oprah, Yasiin Bey, Black Star, Talib Kweli, Kuttin Kandi, Dave Chappelle, Chris Rock, Richard Pryor, Tiffany Haddish, Eddie Murphy, Charlie Murphy, Prince, Ali Wong, Bao Phi, Tina Chang, Jeff Chang, Ed Lin, Alexander Chee, Robert Sullivan, Nick Carbo, Patty Kim, David Mura, Li-Young Lee, Christy NaMee Eriksen, Cathy Park Hong, Emmanuel Ortiz, Momo Chang, Sheng Wang, Joan Osato, James Kass, Lee Herrick, Rain Noe, DJ Boo, Jasmine Choi, Giles Li, Malaya Arevalo, Sonam Wangmo, Hisae Kato, Felicia Hill, Peter Ong, Parag Khandar, Jen Alvarez, Sham-e-Ali Nayeem, Terry Park, Taiyo Na, Sarah Ha, Dennis Sangmin Kim, Danny Thien Le, Sandra Cisneros, Nick Carbó, Breyton Breytenbach, Eileen Tabios, Kristina Wong, Lois-Ann Yamanaka, Sade, Lee Tonouchi, Ed Bok Lee, Edward Garcia, Jeannie Wong, Darshan Mendoza, Jade Rajbir Kaur, Kumu Dane Silva, Kumu Ehulani Stephany, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, Bill Withers, Sam Cooke, Bob Dylan, Bob Marley & family, Jerry Seinfeld, John Lennon, Sean Lennon, Yoko Ono, the Beatles, Digable Planets, Nice & Smooth, Shabba Ranks, Black Moon, Black Sheep, Biggie, Russell Simmons, Stan Lathan, Run-DMC, Mary J Blige, Tupac, Beyoncé, Solange, Alicia Keys, Jessica Care Moore, JLo, Janet Jackson, Faith, Shakira, Norah Jones, Carla Bruni, Ben Harper, Jack Johnson, Steven Tyler, Bret Michaels, Jon Bon Jovi, Sebastian Bach, Björk, Opensouls, Kyu, Jay-Z, Fat Freddy’s Drop, Katchafire, Common Kings, Alex Marley, Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell, Adele, Moby, Beck, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, B. B. King, Fania All Stars, La India, Jerry Rivera, Celia Cruz, Elton John, George Michael, Erasure, Sublime, Bill E-Fluid, Liam de Koster-Kjaer, Mike Hall, Whitney Houston, Nina Simone, Willow Smith, Jada Pinkett Smith, Andre Merritt, Chloe Flower, Madonna, Jane Kim, Beau Sia, Saul Williams, Paul Flores, Chi
naka Hodge, Snoop Dogg, Marc Bamuthi Joseph, Pops Mohamed, Chiwoniso Maraire, Maisey Rika, Spike Lee, Issa Rae, Ana Duvernay, Flight of the Conchords, Suheir Hammad, Tamika Harper, Lemon Anderson, Leanna Zuniga, Amelia Perez, Amalia Leticia Ortiz, Mayda del Valle, Black Ice, Staceyann Chin, Flaco Navaja, Poetri, Shihan, Bassey Ikpi, Lynne Procope, Eric Thomas Guerreri, Steve Cannon, Willie Perdomo, Mervyn Taylor, Kamaui Braithwaite, Cheryl Boyce Taylor, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Shakespeare, Petrarch, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Regie Cabico, Fish Vargas, David Velez, Amy Tan, Maxine Hong Kingston, Lara Stapleton, Anne Carson, Paule Marshall, Eileen Myles, Susan Ito, Yuri Kochiyama, A Tribe Called Quest, Kimiko Hahn, D’Angelo, Raphael Saadiq, Landon McNamara, Hirie, Pharrell, the Last Poets, Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Shappy, Bob Holman, Jason Mateo, Jason Bayani, Jocelyn De Leon, Ani DiFranco, Rich Ejire (DJ Flood), André 3000, Outkast, Paula Fuga, John Cruz, Cree Summer, Cecilio & Kapono, the Beamers, Anuhea, the Lim family, Ammon Tainui Watene, George Kahumoku, Country Comfort, Israel Kamakawiwo‘ole ~
You have influenced my style, sense of beauty, truth, & cadence. Your art has blessed my life. Mahalo nui loa.
To the loves who have blessed my days & nights ~ forever grateful for You sharing your Spirit with me. A part of You always lives in my heart ~ You are a special song in the soundtrack of my life ~ mahalo nui loa for sharing your aloha. Saranghe.
To Hawai’i — whose waters, wonders, songs, spirit, & aloha still humble & amaze me & give me new Life ~ Forever grateful. Mahalo ke Akua. Aloha ke Akua.
My ancestors. God. Jah. Allah. Buddha. Akua. Our Creator.
To the goddesses ~ Saraswati, Hi’iakaikapoliopele, Pelehonuamea, Kuan Yin, Atargatis, Isis, Ixchel, Yemayá ~ for your sacred magic & beauty.
To my Korean American and Asian American communities. For nurturing, supporting, & sustaining me.
To my parents for giving me Life. For raising me. Forgiving me. For loving me. To Kunemo. For Inspiring me. To my cousins. For the good company. To my grandparents. For watching over me, still and always.
To my brother, for surviving me, and for surviving with me. Saranghe. Gomahwuhyo.
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