cradle: mundane
i.
scarf slice(s) of cold pepperoni
pizza thin crusted pan-
ago, covered in
cheese, oregano, mouth full
choked full of gelatinous mass
sliding down…
ii.
watch superhero
movies fool
myself into
believing
while … billionaires
race the Sun
while …
while …
continents burn up
from last Sunday and hail
falls July
iii.
then drill drill drill
my
anxiety until I become marks
on white
paper.
After a deep
sleep
the echo of you
comforts
me, holds me in
its essence and if or
when I add my
heat, through
nasal passages or
one large cavern of breath
your essence (your
essence) expands and undulates
and cuts between
my ribcage up or is it
down wards until
it burrows under my heart
like the juniper
tea, I steep.
Ellen Chang-Richardson is an award-winning poet of Taiwanese and Cambodian Chinese or Chinese Cambodian descent. As the daughter of a survivor of the Cambodian genocide, she’s still trying to figure that second part out. Founder of LittleBirds Poetry, co-founder of Riverbed Reading Series, and a member of the poetry collective VII, Ellen’s work has appeared in Room, Parentheses, and third coast magazine, among others. She currently lives and works on the traditional unceded territory of the Algonquin Anishinaabe. https://ehjchang.com.