"guerreiro em chamas" by Márcia Tannure
Boys in the Water by Yong-Yu Huang
after The White Terror in Taiwan
suppose this country is sickened / suppose she breaks
only her own mouth / on a rusting knife /
the pale beam / we clung to in the wake
of passing ships / for years I searched / these streets
desperate / for any semblance of a body /
nothing but spit & gunfire souring /
my palms / how I watched a line of boys tumble / into
dark water & all I could do was wait /
for the lull of driftwood / the slow ascent / of skin.
I forget the coins still / rattling in their pockets /
each one brighter / than the muzzled bite of the moon /
at night I press them under / my tongue /
our throats hollow with / every name we’ve swallowed / for this island
a fluttering / banner crushed & pulled / taut again
I know / how this song ends / hand over heart /
hand over all the stillest / parts around me / every street glazed
with the heat of a rifle / even the rivers shivering /
for burial / under this blooming dawn / the soldiers look
like a different kind / of hunger feral when seen /
from behind / I want to mistake / them for everyone
we knew / ready to salt this land / like a litany
of unwed / light tomorrow / the doctors will say /
the only good way to die / is for a flag / last night
I opened a window & found only a hurt /
where all the animals emptied / their eyes in the gutter /
always the backs ridged / across the sea / always the dream /
where this country burns / loveless.
suppose this country is sickened / suppose she breaks
only her own mouth / on a rusting knife /
the pale beam / we clung to in the wake
of passing ships / for years I searched / these streets
desperate / for any semblance of a body /
nothing but spit & gunfire souring /
my palms / how I watched a line of boys tumble / into
dark water & all I could do was wait /
for the lull of driftwood / the slow ascent / of skin.
I forget the coins still / rattling in their pockets /
each one brighter / than the muzzled bite of the moon /
at night I press them under / my tongue /
our throats hollow with / every name we’ve swallowed / for this island
a fluttering / banner crushed & pulled / taut again
I know / how this song ends / hand over heart /
hand over all the stillest / parts around me / every street glazed
with the heat of a rifle / even the rivers shivering /
for burial / under this blooming dawn / the soldiers look
like a different kind / of hunger feral when seen /
from behind / I want to mistake / them for everyone
we knew / ready to salt this land / like a litany
of unwed / light tomorrow / the doctors will say /
the only good way to die / is for a flag / last night
I opened a window & found only a hurt /
where all the animals emptied / their eyes in the gutter /
always the backs ridged / across the sea / always the dream /
where this country burns / loveless.
Yong-Yu Huang is a Taiwanese writer living in Malaysia. Her work has been previously published in Kissing Dynamite, Sine Theta Magazine, and Hominum Journal, among others. She has been recognized by Princeton University, The Kenyon Review, and the Georgetown Literary Festival.
Márcia Tannure is a visual artist, born in Belo Horizonte, MG, Brazil. She started her artistic practice when studying porcelain painting. Later, she studied observation and artistic design at INAP / MG. She graduated in Social Work from PUC-Minas with a postgraduate degree in art therapy from Projeto Terra / MG. Some years later she moved to Rio de Janeiro / RJ, where she studied Sculpture at the School of Fine Arts of UFRJ. At the visual arts school Parque Lage she studied contemporary art and exhibition design. She currently lives in Niterói / RJ, Brazil, where she develops research in fire arts and has great inspiration from nature. You can find her on instagram: @marciatannure
