for the brother/sister I never met
as always, Ma kneels by her bed
and offers a prayer to dawn, slipping
through the curtains the way millions
of babies crawl into her dreams at night.
pray harder, my mother opens her chest
to the sky, always waiting for two hands
to dig through the clouds and press
her lost life right back into her.
you were all we expected, not the car
that crashed into ours, not Pa telling us
to stay inside, not Ma hunched over
on the side holding her stomach, not you
bleeding out of her. I still see your footprints
everywhere, the lonely crib that swings by the window,
the sea of red you drowned in, your name’s etched into
the walls of this empty not empty not empty house.
Spencer Chang is a high school junior from Taipei, Taiwan. In his spare time, Spencer enjoys reading, dancing in his bedroom, and dreaming about traveling the world.