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Artwork by Isabelle Lu, staff artist

lastly my

eyes d r o p

into the puddle

of blood that



they join my

other limbs

and organs. now

I no longer

see myself,

at least not truly.

she told me

when I was young

to just blend in;

gave me the

stickers to hand

out and make friends,

told me to learn


spoke to me in it

at home, made me sandwiches

(thinking they were American)

now I’ve lost my diction

I could feel my American accent


so my tongue

dropped first,

then my mouth went when the Asian lunches

my mom packed were thrown into the

garbage and replaced with school meals

then my ears then my hands then my eyes

now I’m split apart

a trembling puddle

of bones and innards, o

f blood dripping f

rom the seams

my body lies below // no

one will ever




i have built my own sculpture, i don’t want to be fixed.

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