I Am Once Again Writing About My Skin

because I don’t want to tell strangers who ask me where I learned
to speak English
and what country I grew up in. I live in the country, in this country,
the one where they ask me why my feet aren’t bound and which
ancestor of mine
was a geisha. When they ask about my ancestors, they fail
to see how I am connected to a stained and wrinkled past
by more than just sinew and cells. The water that nourished
them, that fell
from the sky to moisten their parched mouths and gave them
fluidity to speak,
erodes mountains. Is it remarkable or disturbing that we can dig
up a weed
from any other country, put it in a white ceramic pot shaped like
a hedgehog,
then sell it for fifteen dollars? I see myself in a boutique window
planted in soil that’s supposed to be mine, and I’m supposed
to thrive, sunless,
without knowing where I’m supposed to belong.

I dreamt again of the thin-lipped white woman who told me
the reason why I don’t appreciate Jane Austen is because my skin
is like spiced tea instead of cold milk. Pride and Prejudice slips
off my shoulders like a shawl in the wind because, dear, their love
is just different, and maybe one day you’ll see the value in romance.
What do I say when people ask me what I am? I want to say,
I’m just like you, only shorter in stature, bigger in spirit. I want
to say I escaped
the torments of the past, and that makes me more resilient than even
I understand.

I want to say I am loved. Instead, I tell them why my skin is the color
of barely-there
forest paths known only by deer and kitsune. With every truth I write,
the tikbalang and Baku dancing delicately beneath my skin emerge
and weave themselves amongst my lines. Can you see them?
they may elude you today, but one day, dear, you may come to
understand
their love and what it means to be invisible in your own home.

About the Author

Hikari Miya is a bisexual Japanese Filipina American, 2019 Cornell University English major graduate, and MFA candidate at USFCA. She is the assistant poetry editor for Invisible City. Her poem was as a semifinalist for the Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Prize. She has poems published/forthcoming in many literary magazines: Chestnut Review, Eunoia Review, Macguffin, Litbreak, Jet Fuel, & Fleas on the Dog.

About the ARTIST

Russian-born and Brooklyn-based, Aleksandra Geremia seeks to express her love for nature through acrylic. Aleksandra’s inspiration combines natural, cosmic and psychedelic patterns to create deeply colorful scenes. A rich background in Architectural Design and classical art serves as a foundation for her work.