Harvest
The onion detects
certainty in dirt, on
the contrary, shame
Piece of Evidence
a visitor
a settler
a guest
a purveyor
a gift
a psychology
a drawer
for confidential matter
a hand
at striking distance
a frontispiece
an induction
deliberately sloppy
transition
a transgression
a refusal of the future
an important algorithm
an unexpected euphemism
a refusal of the past
an unforeseeable circumstance
a heart grown from plastic
maybe beginning
a family matter
a load of laundry
a habit nurtured into fruition
a health reason
a fruit bowl
but with onions
a refusal
a refusal
a chance
a resignation
a clamoring
for permission
for entertainment
a consideration of the facts
a more modern approach
a dispersion
a monthly allowance
a solution
a reversal of direction
a roll of fat
a roll for later
a discarded piece of furniture
a reinterpretation of a certain age
an urgent affair
a systematic deflection
of the problem
a dewdrop
for succulence
a reversal of a herd
a hurdle
—
Christine Shan Shan Hou is a poet, artist, and yoga instructor based in Brooklyn, NY. Publications include Community Garden for Lonely Girls (Gramma, 2017), “I’m Sunlight” (The Song Cave, 2016), C O N C R E T E  S O U N D (2011) a collaborative artists’ book with artist Audra Wolowiec, and Accumulations (Publication Studio, 2010). Her poems have been featured in Poor Claudia, Fanzine, Elderly, and iO: A Journal of New American Poetry amongst others.
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