“my oppa is a virgin” and Other Poems
By Sal
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Sexual abuse
my oppa is a virgin
-nerd-omega-schoolboy-outcast-masochist
& he looks so pretty when he cries.
my oppa has weak knees & says thank you easy.
my oppa calls his boyfriend oppa
as he gnaws at his chest & paints his collarbones
thick with blood: the parts of him
that have been touched the loudest shade of alive,
his porcelain waist only animated
by a kiss or a kick. my oppa has been diagnosed
with a hopeless hunger & wears
nothing under his pants at all times to remedy it.
my oppa bends over & fucks
a different oppa at work. learns of forgiveness
as a beating, a burial of words
deep in his gums. my oppa’s teeth are really just
tombstones. my oppa stuffs
his boxers with socks & hides his chest under 2 shirts.
my oppa couldn’t sever anything
clean if he tried. my oppa, undressed by the streetlight,
shuddering at the sound of his own
name. he learns how to smile for the camera &
understands he has no body.
i know he’s only studied love as a weak, thrashing thing.
when he parrots i’m yours(,) i’m sure he means it.
my oppa is an abuser
& he locks me in a room because he knows
i’m clever & fear is the best insulator &
to fuck something, you have to outsmart it.
my oppa’s hands are so soft sometimes
i forget they’re on me. my oppa bites into me like
junk food, wants me but never in public.
he wants me & other girls say they won’t
forgive me for it. my oppa’s friends all adore me
but i don’t know who they are. my oppa says
love me through gritted teeth & i recognize that
power, feel its gag over my pursed mouth.
i would scream at his flat face & imagine that
he understood each nuance of my heart:
i love you, love me! do you love me? yes, yes.
now, i sing for him all night & disappear home
in the morning. i used to say my oppa lights up
every space but really he just turns everything
into shadows. all morning i outlined his wet hair
with my thumb, traced him dimensions, gave him
blush. better skin & lips he must want. i memorized
his eyelash length, visited his mother where
she works. i’ve never told anyone because they’d always said
he looks so pretty. like a girl. a girl wouldn’t dream
of such things. all i wanted to do was reflect his glow.
FOCUS CAM BABY!
[TIMESTAMP] body authentic beautiful
forearm calf pinchnarrow thick
thigh crammed into not enough space. leg gospel decorative
abbreviated cloth dressed thing too easy. unabridged
& fucking lethal. big screen observe overdose
straightforward. asian correct?
real post-asian physique / wonder woman resemble /
all fleshly & carnal / skin tone watermouth /
loyal service, murder murder / gesture filthy face
witch. under transparent cannot restrain. feminist nightmare
among this prettybitch gone want. ass under skin eat want do
cheap want. on face.
popularity maintain that continue dress, next more short go,
me uncomfortable? uncomfortable how so abundant.
capitalist robe this 30 times at last release.
this slut later conglomerate bastard
marry? figure balance so, mmm just skirt metamorphose sing.
snap tissue all used. fictive cleavage friction.
disgusting whore. more thrustwant. more low film worship. again:
up, but personal love now no more tattoos please
Sal (they/them) is a poet living in New Jersey. They write about sexuality, queerness, Asianness, & their intersections. They are a 麻辣香鍋 enthusiast and have a lot of wisdom teeth.
*
Jø Cheung, a creative director/digital designer/fashion photographer from CHEUNGJO PRODUCTION, was a former designer from Ralph Lauren, always passionate in fashion sector but also promotes body positive and gender fluidity such social justice topics.
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