Good Daughters
We were good daughters.
We: rice porridge with cinnamon, milkweed seeds, plastic tea sets, dappled pony with the bent ear, kissing Samantha at camp, bruising easily, singing “Over the Rainbow,” lying about our homework.
We unwound our ears. We read Mother Goose. We helped tie the noose.
We: stole lipstick from grocery stores, kissed Rachel at camp, braided our own hair, spun fire in the air, slept in church, ate fried chicken, scratched our legs, grew our breasts.
We reported our dreams. We recorded the screams.
We confess that we: never forgive, kissed Gabrielle at camp, stayed home sick from school, failed gym class.
We tripped the light fantastic. We toiled, toiled, toiled.
We sovereigns, queens, bloodied our palms and knees.
We: papered dolls, origami bears, saw owls, prayed the prayer of fear, delivered ourselves to you.
We, numbering two, numbering thousands, did.
Lituo Huang lives in Los Angeles. She is the author of a chapbook of poetry and short fiction, This Long Clot of Love. Her fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in JMWW, Hermine, the VIDA Review, and elsewhere. She is currently at work on her first novel. www.lituohuang.com Twitter: @LituoH
