on how to pronounce my name
by Catherine Xia ’23
how do you say your last name?
it’s important to me, i promise,
it’s so important to me that i get
this right, you know? correct me
if i’m wrong, i want to say it right,
i don’t want to offend your
culture and your people, don’t
go easy on me, keep correcting
me until i get it right, don’t
worry about me, just tell it to
me, i’m always up for a challenge,
you know that, right? no, don’t
say that, you deserve to have your
name pronounced correctly, and
i want to make sure that i honor
that, just tell me how do i say
your name, keep reminding me
until i get it right, i’m really
going to put in the effort to
say it right, i learned a bit
of japanese, you know, i think i’m
like 2% asian somewhere, i think
i can do this, oh, it’s chinese? it’s close
enough, right? okay, give it to
to me, i’m all ears, oh wow
okay, say that one more time,
say that one more time, if
i don’t get it today, i’ll get it
tomorrow, you know, i just want you
to feel like you belong.
you really don’t have to,
my first name is in english
on purpose, for a reason,
my parents thought ahead,
they planned ahead, they knew
our family name would be difficult
and wanted to make my life easy
by making it easy for everyone
else to remember my name and
who i am, you’re not offending
me, i promise, you can just refer
to me by my first name, please don’t
make this a big deal, it’s okay if you can’t
say it right, just treat me like a person,
i don’t want you to view me as a
challenge, i’m not a challenge
i’m just a person, i don’t want
to pour extra time and energy by
teaching you how to say my last name
that nobody else has to prove,
all these teachers and professors
demand lessons when i am supposed
to be learning from them,
it is okay, i am giving you permission
fail and butcher my last name.
call me my first name, call me
catherine, call me like i’m just
another student in your classroom,
instead of reminding me that
i don’t belong.
the persistent dereliction of the bacchae
by Anonymous
fingernails black again and at a length for maiming,
embedded instead in skins of backs and breaking
off at the quick. blood on the bike handle, blood
on the bedframe. post-coital toilet water crimson
as pomegranate arils, chewed.
blighted fruits spawning from the same poisoned seeds,
prophecies of parables impossible to overcome:
the primeval destiny of being come over -
three and a half millennia since the mycenean tablets:
pre-aesop, pre-fable, pre-coming to any morals.
cold water on underpants and it feels better to pretend
the stains aren’t mine. every time they try to tear me in half,
i think about tearing them to shreds. i bite, the torture of tease,
mistranslation. i’m ravenous for lips to spit on the ground,
jugulars to extract like a foreign hair on a pillowcase:
herculean rage, impossible tasks for a woman made piecemeal.
buying violence with violence deep into the red, indebted,
it’s there, but it’s not mine. sequestered in festering fragments,
numbered in the archives, begging dionysus for a finale.
the vultures circle on the ceiling sky and i ask them
when it will be my turn to take.