Poem: Lessons on Lessening

Classes on Lessening

By Jane Wong

I wake to the sound of my neighbors upstairs as if they’re bowling.

And possibly they’re, all pins and love fallen over.
I lie in opposition to my ground, if solely to really feel that sort of affection.

What I’ve discovered, again and again —
rise up. You can’t have what they’ve.

And the eyes of a useless rat can’t say something.

In Jersey, the sink breaks and my mom retains a bucket
beneath to avoid wasting water for laundry.

A trickle of water isn’t any joke. I’ve discovered that.
Neither is my father, wielding a knife in starlight.

I used to be taught that every part and everyone seems to be self-made.

Which you could make a window out of something if you’d like.
That is why I froze bugs. To see if they may come again to life.

How I started to see every day: the sluice of wings.
Rise up. The ants pouring out of the sink, onto my arms in dish heavy water.

My arms: branches. A swarm I didn’t ask for.

Nobody advised me I’d should study to be well mannered.
To let myself be consumed for what I can not management.

I have to return to my youthful self. To carrying my life
like heavy wool, weaved in my very own weight.

To fake to not know when the debtors come to gather.

Victoria Chang’s fifth ebook of poems, “Obit” (Copper Canyon Press, 2020), was named a New York Occasions Notable E-book and a Timwwe Should-Learn. Her ebook of nonfiction, “Expensive Reminiscence: Letters on Writing, Silence and Grief,” was revealed by Milkweed Editions in 2021. She lives in Los Angeles and teaches in Antioch College’s M.F.A. Program. Jane Wong is the writer, most just lately, of “Easy methods to Not Be Afraid of Every little thing” (Alice James Books, 2021). She is an affiliate professor of inventive writing at Western Washington College.