Poetry: "Self Portrait as Blue Hydrangea"

our bodies are bruised
with the huckleberry sunset,
star pulp, twisted stars—
crude trenches in the loss of beauty, 
of chisel, knotted petals
blueprinting the ground

cruel like fissures, 
like glades, like shafts
of our collective forgetting.
feeble resurfacing.
am I background noise
again?

don’t
plaster my form
with this corroding
asphalt, aristocracy, flowering
tresses and shades
of my body, my voice, the myth
in my mouth—
chafing the sea,
still silent, still falling apart
blue under cracked glass.


By Taylor Fang - Utah, USA