Do I survive to become the enemy of water? It might have been easier to wash away with you, Mother, than to perform hope before an audience of slaughter.
How close I was to weeping for the face of your daughter crooked on her death certificate. Like a good brother I survive to become the enemy of water.
These standing trees are nightmares where I might have caught her. And I would tear them all down to do anything other than perform hope before an audience of slaughter.
I seize them back, steal them all back—those times that I fought her. Or you Mother. Or you Father. But not for another do I survive to become the enemy of water.
Who in Sri Lanka can tell what I could have taught her of waves like necks of vast cobras? Lies, I’m fit to smother than to perform hope before an audience of slaughter.
There is not enough compassion or God would have sought her-- my young sister who’ll never be married to another. Do I survive to become the enemy of water then perform hope before an audience of slaughter?
Daniel W.K. Lee is a third-generation refugee, queer, Cantonese American born in Kuching, Malaysia. He earned his Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at The New School, and his debut collection of poetry, Anatomy of Want, was published by QueerMojo/Rebel Satori Press in 2019. Find out more about him at danielwklee.com.