Bullet Training
Carolyn Tung

There is a scar on my neck from shaving an elevated mole
     That looks like a hickey. 
I want to hide it in the mouth
     Like Cupid as a vulture,
Drawing back the arrow on what’s done
     And letting it decay into earth’s rings.
Creative destruction, I’ve learned,
     Is healthy. But of the self,
More. I want to be remade with chitin.
     A talisman of crab. To feel a happiness when
Eaten. I am working on taking up space
     In this plastic wrap. Maybe if it was by the
Scruff I’d let you, but then again,
     Rawness is not so easily scraped
As black fungus of flesh. I know this much.
     Whaling: the act of being a whale, 
Or the killing of one. Bottling the ego
     Is the marriage of the two.
Ba’s guide to survival:
     Meat must be salted to preserve.
I’m glad I kept the bigger bunny
     On the Shanghai bullet train. I’m working on
Undoing myself in your eyes. I’ve been unmaking your love to
     Scrape a new one.
Audre Lord says Let’s Unleash Our
     Erotic Potential. I’m trying to get rid of my
Exotic Potential. At the very least
     Why’d you look at that photo of my mother
Stretching her leg in the air like that. Is there holiness in
     Anger? Not the tsundere kind.
Maybe your mother was right.
     This body is not even blown glass.
Just a barefoot neck.
     Just larval stuff.

Carolyn Tung (CMC '24) is a lover of eggs, blush, and the moon.