do you hear me

Pick up the phone, An. What will it take?

“I’m dying, An”? No. Yes. No.

Stop asking me questions whose answers

render me unsoft and unkind

Does not everything in your bones

and skirt steak tell you to

Forgive?

What is there to forgive? You will, one day,

be a mother, and you will understand.

Will I?

God! I hope not. What will

it take for you to call first, An?

Mom, my girlfriend, she was dying.

I wanted her to fly and she shattered, mom.

Mom, do you hear me? Do you hear the-

Your friend, how is she-

-Amen’s and Hallelujah’s in my chest

Stop crying, there’s nothing to cry for-

-Like funeral horns?

Now you’re silent. Now you won’t call.

Because while you were dying,

I was being born.


An Pham, Fall 2018


Artwork by An Pham

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Website design by Zoe Reifel & Ava Bradlow

Animations by Ava Bradlow