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christa haryanto

✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
  • Installations
  • Experimental
  • Games
  • ✮⋆˙ About
  • ✮⋆˙ Contact
 

Experimental

SEVEN POEMS

 

Macaroni Prototype or WHEN I GOT THE GUTS TO ASK HIM TO APOLOGIZE, HE SAID: SORRY YOU REMEMBER IT THAT WAY

 

Fabrics of

 

Weighted Bedset

 

Notes on Undoing

 

On Subalternity

                        My great-grandmother lived at the limits of my imagination.

                        In my family history, she, the matriarch who outlives her husband,

                        who outlives two children, whose fragile and bony wrists used

                        to scare me, but I now carry with pride, the jade,

                                                            (that, legend has it)

                                    that absorbed all her bad luck, and now mine,

……

                                                and turns to me, sadly, that I too, will never understand

                                                            the kind of love that sounds like Toishanese farmland.           

          I quietly carry it, I quietly carry her, I quietly carry it all with me.