1 poem by Angie Sijun Lou

You keep me up at night

Yesterday I drove four hours to the ocean
& slept in a Motel 6 where the freeway
ends, the sign's pink halcyon flare & all
the washed out stars. It made me
think of the glow-in-the-dark crystals
I've been growing underneath my bed,
how sometimes their light keeps me up
at night. But they don't keep me up
the way you keep me up.

​

You keep me up at night cause you can't
stop talking. We lay our bodies down &
your anxiety rots like fruit
on the vine—

​

you (2:58 am): "can i just say one last thing & then i'll be done. just one last thing i swear"

​

I want to ask if you are ever afraid to speak
cause you might ruin the purity of the ritual,
but sometimes you eat Xanax just to check
your email. Worms drown often & drowning
doesn't scare you but the ocean does. In 2009
my dad wrapped himself in Saran wrap every
sober & endless night to protect himself
in his dreams.

​

you (3:17 am): "i want to buy this pair of orthopedic skechers but i don't want you to stop loving me" 

​

One day you will die & become reincarnated
as a man who stands on the street with
camouflage pants & a neutral expression.
You'll press the crosswalk button repeatedly,
the frown lines on your temples decaying like
the skin of a melon. There is a rabbit god
who plays with the moon, & on some nights
he sinks his teeth into it like my ambient
cruelty towards the hands that hold me.

​

you (3:33 am): "are you asleep?"
me (3:34 am): "no"

​

I'm working on loving you the way dogs
slobber on the backseats of minivans.
I'm hoping for an afterlife that looks like
the Windows screensaver. In the mornings
you wake up & tell me how you dreamt of
sleeping. I can never remember my dreams.
You say that's ok.