Ellen Chang-Richardson



cradle: mundane



scarf slice(s) of cold pepperoni
pizza thin crusted pan-
ago, covered in 

cheese, oregano, mouth full
choked full of gelatinous mass 

sliding down…



                           watch superhero movies fool
                           myself into believing 

                           while … billionaires race the Sun
                           while …
                           while …
                                          continents burn up
                           from last Sunday and hail 

                           falls July



then drill    drill    drill        my
anxiety until I become marks 

on white 





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.