after “一生一世一浮华，一梦一醒一天涯” ~ 阿悠悠, 《一曲琵琶》¹

        america i’ll leave you with a beautifully haunting memory of me: when
i was younger i wanted to be an astronaut. daydreamed of swallowing
        stardust like jasmine rice, unearthing aliens like moonlight under my dark
gaze. my mother told me that i had my head in the clouds — she didn’t say
        that i was the unearthly being of this universe. 白日做梦, 醒来是另一个
世界² & now i laugh, a bitter note but i’ll tell you that i tried to find beauty in
        this place. i’ve tasted blood on my fingertips while planting your american
roses, choked on rice wine & emptiness in your elegant wine glasses & still: i
        have recurring dreams of someone planting a flag on the moon and calling it
theirs. wake up in warm sweat & fresh tears and still think i meet your empty
        gaze in every crevice of darkness. and no i am not afraid of the dark but america
did you know that your life’s elixir is slowly poisoning me? that i bury my
        green card that says i am the daughter of an alien and hope it flowers into
something earthly. that your american dream is a daymare that i compel my
        naïve self to love & hold close to my bleeding heart like your passport & still:
your gravity has never been enough to root me to your earth for eternity.
        remember, when i was younger my mother used to read me the story of 嫦娥
奔月³, told me that chang’e flew to the moon to escape this mortal earth, tasted
        moonlit ambrosia & never wanted to come back — she didn’t say that it wasn’t
just a fairy tale of a legend. you know, i once heard somewhere that the horizon
        is light years more beautiful from space & america now i’ll prove to you that it
is true. swallow moonflower ambrosia because it promises me eternity & unearth
        my tangled roots from your ground. & yes i believe you would one day worship
me back like an ethereal being, steal your eagle wings that have been rust & bone
        for centuries. fly too close towards the full moon & after, you sleep to my screams
as i burn to blazing ashes in your atmosphere until there’s only the faintest memory of
        a rootless girl who once told white lies to herself that no, she wasn’t greedy, & 深夜⁴:
you’ll wake suddenly in blissful oblivion-- because isn’t that what exoticism is? a
        dream all along. i leave the foreign scent of my perfume, history in your sheets
and choke on embers, did you ever love me? of course, i imagine you say.
                                                                                of course i did.
america you’ve never changed.

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