Three Poems

Three Poems Noel Yu-Jen (bio) A Midwife is Forbidden from Entering the Temple Kaohsiung, 1945 after Paul Tran If there is too much blood on my hands just say it. If you hate my touching what cannot be touchedcould only permit me to touch not you not even warcould open the thighs I have opened the wet edensI have unearthed then sewed up back in my houseI catch beasts I marry oil with water I clean my gardengather mouthfuls of babies to wash in the river of the disappeared& unanointed where your ladies tell me stay back I stayin. I shed my divine cud in bathwaterspill no political secrets [End Page 469] & so you say I cannot enter this houseof good men of saintly beggars who keep eating my goods my sweetbreads. I play their blood like dough. I shape out punishment.Don't they know I pulled them out of death first let theminto my house? I am their god. I make them bread. I spread their sin like sesameacross my stripped bed. [End Page 470] Mai Begins in the City Ciudad for Soledad. I was naked on the sidewalk I called itdecolonized couture. The trees graffitied it. The wrongfully accusedbirds were gossiping in the precinct. I tried explaining this but the dogswere only interested in my accent, took turns guessingwho I came from and why. I was too young I was just bornI was speaking five languages and all of them I stole from the future.Everyone and everything was nameless even the rabbitwho came to interview me and prod at my undocumented dictionshe was a real talker. Capable of prayer and other adult ceremonies like being unleashedbut never touching me if I didn't ask for it first; animal behavior. She did askfor my story but only the parts that never happened to me said pleaseI need to keep this short and sweet for the press and I couldn't speakher language kept calling her the same thing my ancient selfwould have called her: tùzĭ, and the birds mocked me saying tú tú tú? What do youpossess? I had no one I had nothing but a mouth like an acorn—dangerouswhen uncooked spilling curse words and the endings of books into the streetno consent no personal articles no feminine or masculine no heritagethe rabbit listened acutely. Took notes only when I looked at her earsthose soft folded lips. Described me as Ajena. Adjacent to hermanamemorial for all who named me whatever was easiest to understand. I spoke it allI spoke only one language I was just born in this soledad for ciudaddanía eldaño I carried out of the station I was saying it again running from the dogsrunning from their names my mouth runningin circles all endings translated to the same sign upon exit. [End Page 471] In this painting all bodies speak english which is a disgusting language I know.Here a foresttranslates to a clearinggiving way to a lake.Here a naked girlpulls herself out of the water& I call her all sorts of sweet thingsI did not invent: incandescentoriental fox / eyedgoddess otherglutinous delicacies.All the herd of boys come runningwith dictionaries to fill this lakewith filth. I have tried & tried to take this bitchout before they weep & I mistranslatetheir desire as devotion.Her body is a sheet of glass& we watch the whole worldthrough her bowels.Meanwhile the moon lookswithout consent & I mirror thissilent light—I sew my mouthinto theirs. We flatter in dissonance.In unison. [End Page 472] Noel Yu-Jen Noel Yu-Jen earned her B.A. in Spanish & Portuguese from Princeton University. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in West Branch, ghost city review, and diode poetry. She lives and writes in Brooklyn. Copyright © 2023 The University of the South