“Roof of the Sky,” Linh Ngo ‘26

“Hymn in Hyphae,” Becca Jones ‘25

 

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.