The MeToo Issue: Poetry Roundup
Each issue we feature the work of Asian female writers all over the world. Here are this issue’s poems:
Yellow by Katherine Wong
When I was younger
As my legs grew taller and stronger and my mind grew weaker
I hated my skin color
It was a muted sulfur tainted with fever
That caused my knees to buckle, my hands to shake
My neck to bead with sweat
Because it was just that repulsive and sickening
My eyes were empty black holes
And while everyone else had eyes of ocean waves
Or forest canopies with curtains of saturated green
My eyes were small slits of dark matter
Through traumatic fights and drama I learned about self love
After being stuck in the dark tunnel, I could finally see the end
Where light shone in buttery sun rays
Sharply contrasting from the black to the yellow
Like eyes to skin
Color is meaningless, yet it is also what gives us definition
With maturing came a flushing of new hues
Things were no longer black and white But instead a variety of shades and tints
Upon peering at my reflection in the mirror I no longer saw a broken girl that needed fixing
But instead
A young woman radiating with the sun’s amber energy
A newly lit fire sits within me
Fueled with passion and a goal
I am yellow
Sweet honey that drips from my lips in thick clumps
Golden with resonance and power
The same power that my words speak
Where I pour my emotion into
Because I am proud
I am yellow
Like the ripe fruit that stems from banana trees
Sheaths of blonde that scream from the top of their lungs
It is my shield and my weapon
I am yellow
Dandelions that poke out from within the garden
As stubborn weeds
Tufts of gold that sit unbothered among the green
And no matter how many times you pull it out, more will grow back
Resilient and headstrong
Because I am not going anywhere
I am yellow
Sharply contrasting, eyes to skin
The slits of dark matter dotted with stars and galaxies And a story
Identity by Sang Ji
Identity.
Who is, me.
Mirrors.
Books.
Clothes.
Smoothie.
Star sign.
Tongue sign.
Skin color.
Handwriting.
Bachelors...
I could go on, for so much I am made of;
and yet as noteworthy, is the unspoken for.
What vibes are made of...