slumber party

	after Danez Smith



on your doorstep, dolled up in new 
plaid pajamas 
                               (yes, the ones with the blue satin trim!) 

backpack in one hand, the other
                                                                     a fist

               unfurling with jelly cups or fruit candy.

at the time, we only cared for the trappings 
of adulthood, so in between
                                                               reruns of Inuyasha 

& monolid makeup tutorials on Youtube, 
we traded mascara, lotion, & nail polish,

              each bottle a pink & sparkling prayer.
              though you tried to be coy 
                                                                       with your crushes, i 

always won, dragging out a derek or an eric 
or a peter. 
                                     for him, we practiced kissing 

bunched up blankets, pillows, our arms, 
each other’s. after, in the bathroom, alone, 

i would swirl my fingertip through the gloss
ghost of your lips, 
                                                   bring them to mine.

one night, i sucked on my palm, salty-sweet, 
                        & dreamed we were cherries, 

weighing down the bough.


//


the first time i shared a bed with you we slept like

                                                   me	you   

                                 our backs facing each other.

                                                  we were two lilies growing 
                                                  in a cabinet, not knowing

                left-right, light-dark, up-down. 
                what pleasure. what
                                                               secrecy.

                            after your breath evened into long, easy pulls,
                                         i slid a fist between the pillow & the bed.
 
              earlier, at the museum, someone had photographed 
                                        hands—the ways lesbians hold their lovers,
                         make them cum. in the dark, until i fell

              asleep, i copied their poses—no, i sent signals.

felt them reach you.

---

Kaitlin Hsu 徐欣 (she/her/她) is a queer Taiwanese poet from the Bay Area who believes in a free Palestine. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in A Public Space, Poet Lore, Peach Mag, and more. She is a 2024 Margins Fellow at the Asian American Writers Workshop and a 2024 Brooklyn Poets Fellow. She currently works at Kaya Press as an associate editor.