Bruise Blue

IF 0.2 Q4 WOMENS STUDIES Meridians-Feminism Race Transnationalism Pub Date : 2023-10-01 DOI:10.1215/15366936-10637654
Nancy Kang
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Abstract

They had swarmed, expectant,in the back bleachers, ripping skirt and shirther legs kicking up, catching wild handsbucking like a rodeo pony, prodded electricthe frantic powdering of moth’s wingsmouth stopped by mitt upon mitt of salted slapsarched backs, pounding fists on keyboardsmad jazz, tympanic torsionhamburger grinding and all the belchingoil spills and dumb eruptions then—the blue stillness of the left-alone.She fetus-rolled and went blanksinking through gel, catching each edgewith a rough palm in passinga red meditationa serration.Without the hard shell to clutch back allthat had been pulled out wildly and stuffed back neatlywith barbed-wire stitches and scotch-tape salvesshe had to relearn balance, love the slantof light going gentle there, mend hips and ego,numb the grins and whispers thatswaggered by, accept prayers lingeringin wet, kind eyes like river-smoothed stones.She cauterized dreams of tangled amber,body’s newness, thoughts of princely thingsonce promised in dabs of pink gloss, stickyglitter, and a snow-globe’s gilded carousel.She marked a calendar cross for every daythat followed the one bruised blue, likestrolling a graveyard lit fullof luminol kisses.It hurt, the sad sag of Dad’s shoulders,the tv’s curt clicks and cold triggerof Mum’s tongue, volleying blame, spitting disbelief.Under words flung like a gnarled net, she satdog-dejected, inert as a snoutful of quills.She would seek then hide the pills, hoardan arsenal of sugar, stir the sediment of drinks and sighHealing is as gusty and oceanic as time.Sleep is her suspension, a whale-belly bedknobbed by barnacles and the deep embraceof ribs so heavy, curved, and mute yetbuoyant like a breath in winter.She vows next time to be vengeful, agile,and kinetic, so as never to be caughtsurrounded againwithout weapons.
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瘀伤蓝色
他们蜂拥而来,期待着,在后面的看台上,撕扯着裙子和衬衫的腿,踢着腿,像马术比赛的小马一样疯狂地握手,电击——飞蛾翅膀上疯狂的粉末——嘴巴被一层一层的咸咸的拍打着的后背挡住了,在键盘上捶打拳头——爵士乐,鼓室扭扭,汉堡磨碎,所有的打嗝和无声的爆发——然后是孤独的蓝色寂静。她像胎儿一样翻滚着,在凝胶中像毯子一样,用粗糙的手掌抓住每一个边缘,做着红色的沉思。没有了坚硬的壳,她不得不重新学习平衡,爱那里柔和的斜光,修补自己的屁股和自我,麻痹走过的笑容和窃窃私语,接受像被河水磨平的石头般湿润、仁慈的眼睛里停留的祈祷。她烧灼了缠绕的琥珀的梦,身体的新鲜,对曾经允诺在粉红色光泽、粘稠的闪光和雪球的镀金旋转木马上的高贵事物的想法。她在日历上画了一个十字,表示每一天都跟着淤青的那一天,就像漫步在满是发光诺之吻的墓地里。爸爸悲伤地垂下肩膀,电视的咔哒声和妈妈冷冷的舌头,一连串的责备,吐槽的怀疑,都让人心痛。在像一张粗糙的网一样抛来抛去的话语下,她垂头丧气地坐在那里,像一嘴羽毛笔一样呆滞。她会寻找并隐藏药丸,囤积大量的糖,搅拌饮料的沉淀物,然后叹息,治疗就像时间一样狂风呼啸。睡眠是她的悬吊,一个布满藤壶的鲸肚,和那沉重的、弯曲的、沉默的肋骨的深深拥抱,却又像冬天里的呼吸一样轻盈。她发誓下次一定要复仇、敏捷、动力十足,这样就再也不会在没有武器的情况下被抓住了。
本文章由计算机程序翻译,如有差异,请以英文原文为准。
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