2015
In 2014, when Tan Shen refused to leave a 24-hour KFC in Sichuan Province, it became viral news. In 2015, Laryssa Wirstiuk gave us this small and radical gesture of compassion inspired by that story. It still resonates years later. It’s a lovely, moving poem that deftly reminds us of our own griefs and suggests that Shen’s story is far less unusual than we may have wanted to believe. Indeed, the speaker has “been there before” and serves as a sort of guide through grief and its harrowing in-betweens. - Les Kay.
"Lovesick Woman Spends Week in KFC" by Laryssa Wirstiuk
Trust me, I’ve been there before: not
KFC but on NJ Transit trains, alone
at a two-person table tucked away
in the back of a Philadelphia bodega,
spreading myself like a slick of butter
not melting on the cold bread that is
a rented king-size bed in February.
You hadn’t planned on more than
a meal but remained for the zen-
like atmosphere: the fluorescent light,
odor of fried foodstuffs permeating
your soul, transactions made with
control and predictability: how many
pieces would you like? And gravy?
Young lady, I just want you to know
your hair looks like it’s been combed
with a chicken wing’s crispy coating,
and you could benefit from a shower
and fresh clothes, which would require
you to leave the 24-hour poultry palace
near the home you shared with him.
I’m so relieved to read you’ve left
the Colonel’s fast-food establishment
and have gone to your parents outside
of the city, where I hope you’ll find
vegetables: an abundance of fiber
and peace that comes after sustaining
your grief and honoring its hunger.
KFC but on NJ Transit trains, alone
at a two-person table tucked away
in the back of a Philadelphia bodega,
spreading myself like a slick of butter
not melting on the cold bread that is
a rented king-size bed in February.
You hadn’t planned on more than
a meal but remained for the zen-
like atmosphere: the fluorescent light,
odor of fried foodstuffs permeating
your soul, transactions made with
control and predictability: how many
pieces would you like? And gravy?
Young lady, I just want you to know
your hair looks like it’s been combed
with a chicken wing’s crispy coating,
and you could benefit from a shower
and fresh clothes, which would require
you to leave the 24-hour poultry palace
near the home you shared with him.
I’m so relieved to read you’ve left
the Colonel’s fast-food establishment
and have gone to your parents outside
of the city, where I hope you’ll find
vegetables: an abundance of fiber
and peace that comes after sustaining
your grief and honoring its hunger.
Les Kay's "The Pursuit" in Issue #29.
Les Kay is the author of At Whatever Front (Sundress Publications, 2016), as well as the chapbooks The Bureau (Sundress Publications, 2015) and Badass (Lucky Bastard Press, 2015). He is also a co-author of the chapbook Heart Radicals (ELJ Publications, 2016; About Editions, 2018). His poetry has appeared widely in journals such as The Collagist, Redactions, South Dakota Review, Southern Humanities Review, Sugar House Review, Whiskey Island, and The White Review. He currently lives in Cincinnati with his wife, Michelle, and two small dogs. Learn more at: http://www.leskay.com.
Les Kay is the author of At Whatever Front (Sundress Publications, 2016), as well as the chapbooks The Bureau (Sundress Publications, 2015) and Badass (Lucky Bastard Press, 2015). He is also a co-author of the chapbook Heart Radicals (ELJ Publications, 2016; About Editions, 2018). His poetry has appeared widely in journals such as The Collagist, Redactions, South Dakota Review, Southern Humanities Review, Sugar House Review, Whiskey Island, and The White Review. He currently lives in Cincinnati with his wife, Michelle, and two small dogs. Learn more at: http://www.leskay.com.
