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Soliloquy For You If You Ever Heal
by Abigail Chang

March 7, 2022 Contributed By: Abigail Chang

Winding River by Edgar Degas
Winding River by Edgar Degas, courtesy of the Minneapolis Institute of Art

We gurgle pretzels/I decide I love you/it was never supposed to be

a permanent decision. Salt wedges inside

our bodies sandpaper my diaphragm —  I ache I pain. You magick

 a petal-handled

pocketknife & pound apples on 

concrete. Is this 

organic or

does it cough artifice? In the sun your fingertips emit starlight. In the sun I crumble.

 

So I strip you back like       a bandaid. You are bare-boned flesh. 

I manipulate your hair and weave in threads of aquamarine from 

a kit. You shear coconut until it glistens translucent.

 I Barbie your limbs & think about barbecuing ribs. I nurse

 

tender childhoods & drizzle ketchup on pizza. You are you and I am misguided. I 

lopside, I degrade. Sometimes I wonder Who are the dogs I bet on? The girls I sacrificed

starfruit for? The girls I altar before while candles spitfire. I prostrate — 

 

I think sideways. Sometimes I steeple & tremble  —  I sway, I swear you deserve 

this One 

Thing to yourself. I swear I’m sorry for not 

stepping away. That now when windows kaleidoscope & 

blossom, you shrink. I grow. That I feed on 

 

reverse osmosis — 

water gushes out of my       crevices. Now 

the sun bathes me & 

washes you out. Your fingers, your fingers, stained grapefruit, stained

fuchsia suncream. It is because of me that your paper veins are visible, are

cracked. I am both of our 

uterus’s 

villain origin stories. I am our limited edition rosary. 

 

Now, I ink, I drink —  many 

such things. I take. I self-medicate with regret. I salt salads and swallow 

raw things that grow inside of me. My seeds are teething. One day I will become an 

apple       tree. I will harvest whispers and tiptoed sighs/       lies of first love. I will freeze them

in my gut until they shiver silent & filament tapestries. I will release 

goldfish & silverfish to the masses. I will reap 

what I now sow until I am pudding-

 

dense. I will configure 

my body to fit yours instead of the other way around & mettle

a sherry-soft quilt. I will frame & blame a 

tender image in utero. But for now I lie on my back 

& drown &

soliloquy. 


ABIGAIL CHANG is a writer based in Taipei, Taiwan. She edits for Polyphony Lit and is forging through life armed with a severe artificial tea addiction. You can find her on twitter & instagram.

Filed Under: Featured Content, Featured Poetry, Poetry Posted On: March 7, 2022

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