The Amber of the Moment

Kurt Vonnegut is in the road: butt
bare and speaking British. I shepherd

him to the passengerís seat, say Wherever
you want to go. Asia, he tells me. The Korean
barbecue: too much salt, not enough

dialogue. We split the bill. Across
the street: a porn shop, a store of bongs

and menthol, used condoms
in the parking lot. All this resonates
how a tuning fork carries anotherís

vibration. I am seventeen years new
and already bored of fucking, especially

half dressed men. But Kurt is here
and caressing my thigh, so I show
him my stale room, my unboxed

handcuffs, my foxtail buttplug, my trashcan
of toenail clippings. Even the portrait

of me in a uniform skirt, which my father
put up, and which I turned upside
down because I was ashamed. How ashamed

we grow of ourselves as we grow. My mouth
overflows with salt as I pull Kurt

onto the bed, bind his eyes
with a scarf. But he recoils from me how
a snake recoils from its own mouth.


Margaret Zhang is the Editor-in-Chief of Glass Kite Anthology and an undergraduate at the University of Pennsylvania. Margaret's work appears in DIALOGIST, SOFTBLOW, Gigantic Sequins, Words Dance, the Foyle Young Poets Anthology, and other journals.