DURIAN GIRL
Peel me open like a mango, sticky juices
staining your hands. Eat me out, my papaya heart
filling your empty stomach.
Hold me in your palm
strange and ugly
like rambutan. Unpalatable
like durian, pull apart my milky flesh
with your hands
as the stench fills the room.
Not all fruit is sweet
and easy to consume. I am exotic
but not in the way you’d like me to be.
I want to leave you dirty
with the memory of me
unable to wash my scent
off your skin. I am your guilty pleasure
that no one understands. Spilling out
of your mouth, running down your chin
I am everywhere
and you can’t get enough.
AMERICA, MY LOVER
I met you after my last breakup.
I was drinking myself stupid
Savoring the burn of the liquor
As it ran down my throat.
America, you looked damn good
Under those fluorescent bar lights
After a couple of drinks
when I had no home to go back to.
I was looking for a body
to share my bed for a night
and your hungry called out to my lonely.
I took you home.
America, my lover
you promised me more than you could give.
I laid myself down at your feet.
Naked before you: my shaking hands
my hairy arms, my wide nose
my squinty eyes, my crooked smile.
All my ugly. All for you.
I slipped you on; my wedding dress
my burial gown.
America, you were good to me.
You fucked me like no lover has before.
You made me into something beautiful
but America, I am leaving you.
I need a lover who will sustain me
who wants more than just my body
to mold into your own likeness.
America, you are only perfect from a distance.
America, I’m too sober to love you any longer.
America, my lover
this is where I say goodbye.
DANCER
She summons ancient magic
from within her bloodlines
spins words of silver
woven into threads.
She is dancing again
body rocking in time with the ocean
entranced.
You can't take your eyes off her
those dirty rhythms, that pulsing beat
pulling her closer to primal, animalistic
womanhood.
She is dancing again, but it is not for you
nor any man.
She does not need you to
resurrect her.
She will still be dancing
still full of magic
long after you are gone.
Ally Ang is a self-described spooky femme whose roots spread across continents and oceans. A senior at Wellesley College, Ally studies Sociology & Asian American Studies and hopes to work towards decolonizing academia. Their work has been published in journals such as The Fem, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and Rambutan Literary, and their first chapbook is available from Damaged Goods Press.