my mother’s eyes came to brush my head 

my mother’s eyes came to brush my head 
they said, grow up well
wear clothes that fit
but time passed just by eating, sleeping
the future unfurled a denser smokescreen
I also wanted a fine pair of rainboots
bright enough to draw the eye of strangers
but time passed just by working, eating
I sweated two times
waited for nine redlights
and time passed me
when my mother came to brush my head I was feigning sleep
after she left I burned with fever
the sun was mad at me
fake moonlight fell from the cardboard moon 
I couldn’t recognize my mother’s hairbun
piled high in the bathtub

have you tried sweeping everyday 

I’m inclined to not speak and thus became a bird
I’m inclined to wear pants with holes
thus became a dog
those two cats became a circle
and must smell nice
every night I’m with my kid
and must stink
have you tried sweeping everyday 
you become more human
look     the sun has turned scarlet
look     that thing in the sea is seagrass
look     all gone

Emily Lu is a poet, translator, psychiatrist. She is the author of the chapbooks there is no wifi in the afterlife (San Press 2022) and Night Leaves Nothing New (Baseline Press 2019). She lives in Toronto.