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    • Issue 12 - Retrospect
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POETRY
Francesca Mall, Lauren, Michelle Hsia. Chaim Durst, Ana Chen, Johnny Yeung, Lily Froese Raihl

till next year
Michelle Hsia

In between wrapping paper and fake cherry blossoms
- there you are!
Hidden by hugs of ostentatious dust bunnies
And cookie tins overflowing with lace trim and old spools of thread
I find you here each year


- yes, I am happy to see you too!
Both our bellies full of bai cai and niu rou
I smile when I see that
Your knees are still patched together
With Hello Kitty Band-Aids.


- no way! You still like that song?
Play it for me one more time
And maybe a time after that
The notes that you hold onto
Make me remember why we get along so well


- of course I'll come back again!
Though my face may change and my hands may age
We'll still embrace like each time before
Cheek-to-cheek
In the closet underneath the stairs


Good to see you again
My old friend


No Takebacks
Francesca Mall

The shade from the dust
of the darkness you shed
rains down around you.
Revealing the veiled light
so long hidden
underneath your past.
And yet
when you look back to see
what you might have changed,
how you could have saved yourself
from all the pain you experienced
In retrospect
you can not find
a single scar
that did not make you who you are.
You are
the darkness of the past
and
the light of the future
mingled and mixed
into one
perfectly flawed soul.
But you did not do this alone
No
the souls of your ancestors
rose up to meet you
and you found a way
to give them peace.
As you survey the scene
That has been your life
It all boils down to
One thing
There is not one mistake
That you made
That you would ever
Take back

i
Lauren

​
i am drowning.
not in water, no,
i can breathe just fine.
but in a burst of stress and anxiety
and just a compulsion to sit and stare:
outside the window to where another universe may exist (timeless, unbinding),
into a collection of poetry and quotes that i try to understand and fit their meanings into the cracks of my
calcium lacking bones,
past your blue eyes that plead me to come back - but i don’t want to. 

i want to float,
lie adrift on my bed of coalesced dreams, blankets, and nightmares
where if i can close my eyes, sleep takes over
easily.

i want to fly,
be weightless and away from the burdens and responsibilities that i never asked for
(fuck the 4.0 and perfect attendance and being nice)
into clouds of highs and feelings of nothingness.
i wanted to be the best:
able to keep good on my promises, happy, and enough for my parents
who thought that i wanted attention and my problems were only superficial;
instead, look at me now -
wishing for a collapse of the world (an apocalypse perhaps),
a stopping of the rushing in my ears,
and feeling the sharpness of my ribs (i don’t fit into my clothes like before). 
​

i felt a morbid fascination when i broke
down, spiraling and choking and crying:
i just wanted to be okay,
just wanted to touch hope and hold it,
cupped in my hands like it was a diamond snowflake.
i don’t know where it went wrong, when did i start
leaning towards self-destruction over quiet peace? 

i ask for silence
as i try to formulate my chaos into words
that may end up as a drunken prayer:
god, have mercy on me. 

one year since
Michelle Hsia
​

Splat splat splat
I spent months letting thoughts of you
Ricochet against my brain
Like raindrops
Percussion so distinct
With crashing cymbals
Like that drummer in Chicago losing his place mid-song/ oh please tell me you remember how
hard our eyes met at that moment 

It was too loud, baby, the smell of your skin and so 
I snipped the stems of lush wildflowers
And ate them whole
So my breath would leak with honey and lavender
So my tears would drip aster and rose
I couldn’t - wouldn’t sit in the tall grass too long
In fear of the warm wind carrying your cold touch away/ your ghost cupped my brain and kissed
me hard and claimed me as your own 

When you stood shoulder to shoulder with her
Like soldiers
Did the mirror look the same?
An illusion of solidarity solidified between toothpaste-filled kisses
And embraces that were too early and too late
Too short and too long
I hope she sang freedom as she sank down
Deep into the tiles of our floor
Leaving a taste of winter in your open mouth
And when the days got shorter, your smile did too/ it was so good, wasn’t it? until it wasn’t good
at all at all at all 


Did you see it, baby?
Last night? when my head cracked open?
Or maybe you didn’t notice
Until you spilled from my bedroom window down onto the street below
You took an unsteady step forward
Bare feet still wet from my skull
Turned around the bend
Swallowed by night
Gone gone gone 

remember
Lily Froese Raihl

it’s funny.
how after you leave, you forget.
the wounds stop bleeding,
and the bruises fade,
and it no longer hurts to touch your own skin.
you expand,
become brighter, better.
and you forget what it was like.
almost.
but then,
inevitably,
you go back,
and you fall into old patterns so smoothly
it’s like you were never gone.
you feel yourself shrinking back down
into your old self,
and you realize why you left in the first place.

Eventide Again 
​Chaim Durst


The ship that once contained 
Our love, that shamanistic wreck
Has left me flailing far beneath  
Its holy-salted deck. 

At times, it’s true, I miss the 
Confines of that listless ship. 
But in the miles of ocean blue, 
It’s just a bitty blip. 

Moons will wax and they will wane, 
As Moons are wont to do. 
But I’m content to navigate 
Eternity with you. ​

wide awake
Johnny Yeung
​

It’s midnight again but I’m wide awake

I’m not sure how to think when
all my thoughts are so tangled
thoughts burst like starfire 
dreams I want to realize 
the words left unsaid

My attic is so full but where do I go?
lived a life so long, so short, 
so much I want to do
sometimes I’m choking 
what-ifs, only-ifs and tears
so lost but I wanted to breathe

So often I think of things a lifetime ago
the future paints itself like 
stars across a canvas
but sometimes as I lay in bed
I’m afraid that I can’t see the light
can you see the sparks, the passion?
the terror, the fright, the pain

I have been wondering, wandering so long
sometimes I fear I can’t find my way
maybe I’ll stumble and trip
but my heart desires to fly
beyond those echoes of the past

My heart is marching, marching
always, endlessly, unfaltering it goes
for the lost, the lonely, the unwanted
I feel my heart beating a rhythm 
a song I can’t sing but it roars
my hopes pounding in my veins 

In this silence I found my voice
so quiet and timid it still dreams
got so many things I want to do
it’s 2am and we’re wide awake

young they are
​Ana Chen


instructions to didi:
for you i would prescribe blue, a body shifting
towards its edges. fill the oceans
    with pebbles, one
        by one. 
vague flutterings in the morning, bodies in
ungentle flight. suppose i prescribed you a forever, where
would you look, then? instructions to didi: a flock of holy men
wails at our doors. 
    red is only ethereal when tucked
    beneath eyelids, in that cave of a blink, phosphene
fizz. 

instructions to didi: 
you scintillate, but your body will only
touch the seismic twice, thrice if you’re lucky, so
    press your reenactments to your lips,
    your legs, shield them like
        wax. 
don’t take unspooling for ennui, sewing needles
clatter only allegro, you want to be able to tell
the broken from the unwound. 

instructions to did:
don’t pull her blouse above her face. not even snow is
grace enough for her, woman as gun in
untrained hands. i am bitter only
when standing against your shoulder, snakeskin
    camouflage, something i can only hope
    will be shed. 
and you, your hands wet over phone screens, egg yolk
sheen, golden as the moon two
nights ago. instructions to didi: kill by the neck,
murder by chest, slaughter by
    the stomach. the 
pudgy man before you: he will do an about-front, you
will stand still, wings sinking red
in shoulders: icarus,
aflame.
Editor's Statement
Stories
 Arts


​​Issue #12 - Retrospect


​
Copyright © 2020 by It's Real Magazine. ​All Rights Reserved.
ISSN 2688-8335, United States Library of Congress.
publ. Bellevue, Washington.
​
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