Current
Issue
Volume 12.2
Jess Yuan
—
Girls
Many crowd in springtime, frayed twenties, my window
Square and open. This month the sheets are washed,
Glowing, like lawn and flower, overwhelming to maintain.
At night sprouting thick thoughts, I am worried and one of many.
On the billboards they are eyeless, strong-minded, they throw
Themselves endlessly into never enough. I cannot, must not pine
For greener days of dusty horses, thee and thou, white memory.
Marble quarries are disemboweled then recast, to become Ophelia—
How I want her, want to be her, through the golden light of the European wing.
She is celebrated, hollow, and flat, neither model nor warning.
I cannot, must not fall for his models or write beauty into death,
Or celebrate the golden chain, the manager’s praise, more must keep me
Pacing river to river. Oh how I want to be someone, anyone
True—
Jess Yuan (she/her) is a poet, educator, and architect. She is the author of Slow Render (2024), winner of the Airlie Prize, and Threshold Amnesia (2020), winner of the Yemassee Chapbook Contest. Jess holds an MFA in Poetry from the Johns Hopkins Writing Seminars and has received support from Kundiman and Miami Writers Institute. Her poems appear in Best New Poets, Tupelo Quarterly Review, jubilat, Beloit Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She is a licensed architect and Director of Intermediate Studios at Boston Architectural College.
