Listen to Helen Gu read her poem:
There are many tales about Chang'e, including a well-known story about her that is given as the origin of the Mid-Autumn Festival . . . In older versions of the story, Chang'e stole the elixir from Hou Yi, drank it, and flew to the Moon so that her husband could not go after her.—Wikipedia, “Chang'e”
It’s sharp enough to pierce nine suns—
the knife my mother seizes in her
waxen hands. Next to the storm-stained window
muted with breath, the rusted tip begging
for a body between the wooden frames. Beneath
the chrysanthemum light fogged with want, I imagine
my mother as a girl on the kitchen floor, knees
stacked like broken plates. How the crisp September moon sweeps
over the dry cracks in her lips, girlhood
pooling in the flush of her cheeks.
