the underside of predilection — a poem

i am the golden of sunflowers,

and the beaming rays of sunup, sundown.

the cocoa of my eyes

passed down from dynasties before me

qin,

tang,

song,

but hidden in the shadows

of a rapist’s culture,

like the ghost that has colonized my closet,

it makes itself known,

knocks

one

two

three times

and suddenly,

my east asian ethnicity is your turn on.

the very skin that bottles my ancestors,

the legacy i have inherited

has been filched and forced into a mania

alas—now a sexual fantasy.

three millenniums of culture

yet we are known only

as the ‘asians’ to your

i love asian women.

what about my sleek black hair

tells you that i seek to be dominated?

what about the purple and pink hue of my lips

alludes to the whines and whimpers

you believe you can coax out of me?

the tent in your trousers

and the stirring of your loins

is what leads you to delusion

as if i am your china doll,

dainty and delicate

who wants wholly to be manhandled.

aren’t you afraid of breaking me?

perhaps,

you’ll make an exception if it is your pleasure

that comes from my ruin.

you are exotic

like durian

and mangosteen,

no more than fruits native to my land,

for you to suckle the juices

from the pulps of my flesh

until it drips down your chin.

i am left in a puddle of misconception

and pure repulsion

for you, canaille, have

plucked my jade hairpins

one by one

like a chicken’s feathers

before gutting me with your fingers,

like the seeds of a cantaloupe,

like turkey on christmas day

to be devoured,

until you leave

satiated and flaccid.

i am not bashful

nor docile

keep your crude fixations to yourself

i am not aroused, ready for the devastation of my temple.

careful,

you resemble a predator

and i will be damned

if i allow you

“to ride me like a kawasaki”— i am not even

of japanese descent.