Sequins in Sequences by Erin Shen (Georgia, 16)

I wake to find the
morning clouds bruising
our eyes. Mother keeps
its tunes that I forget
smoothed to one side–
part of her, a
language she spooned into my mouth
in every second. Her coins lay
unopened and sealed–
I opened a palm to gesture, but instead,

wheelbarrows lost again
like an embryo under the weight of
my sonogram framed in subjugation
Half-choked smile and umber braids
Mother cries in my arms to say I am a
包子, baozi, she kept in her wound
and her eyes that I bask into mine
scattered with her paycheck
unlike the other months.
mom slips in a shaved kiwi

I stare long at the crown of freckles
if the freckles are skinned
Mother hurries me over
telling them I was married off
with bolded x’s that were genetic yet
Everyone can have so much in a lifetime
after each word
it ends with a break–
the morning air and
me

wondering if the green flesh will reattach itself
From a distance, we hear the whistle of the train
while she greets our neighbors passing by,
but in my fingers I carry books and papers, marked
Mother tells me the x’s lead to evolution
In the beginning I was introduced to the quiet shh sound
that sounded like a lullaby in the village, but this time
the screeching halt separates
the strings that connected
with my past

​Erin Shen (she/her) is a 16 year old high school junior from Georgia. Her writing has been published in Lumiere Review, Fledge magazine, and elsewhere. Her favorite places to travel to are Suzhou, China and California. When she is not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and dancing.