Fiction Poetry

kayumanggi [brown-skinned]

Liana S

i saw myself in the mirror
face & arms covered in ash
like i’d been rolling in charcoal
instead of swimming in albay

my cheeks elastic only whites
of my eyes visible in public
restroom blending with shadows
hiding from the siesta sun

[  ]

in california my skin crackles
splotches itch & flake off
tints of coffee with milk peel
until paleness enrobes me in silk

stalking papa & mike
concealed fists & guns that aim
mama told mike to pumice dead
epidermis in the shower away

[     ]

i wrestle to molt out
of my colonizer casing
pinay    filipina    pilipinas
a king i don’t serve pervades

you can’t be ugly if you’re light
said my ex’s half-chinese mom
i do not laugh
diagnosed allergic to the sun

[	]

i can’t return to kayumanggi
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