In the light of the moon that I only half-
belong to, my skin swells, stinging
and red as lanterns. This waning moon, its insides
full of goddesses and heartbreak, lore
I’ve learned from history books
and not my own blood. So take it,
China, take my blood. With these mosquitos
running rampant. Suck the unbelonging
out of me. How long will it take to work?
I shape myself with the emblems I can gather.
Let me write myself here, with these symbols
I claim to know, swear are in my lineage—
proving myself to my own desire
to be seen.