I unhook the photograph
from its nail,
needle the aperture
& find my youth
history, a washout
of dieting & wedding cake.
In those days,
I dreamt less
of a private bed chamber
and more a future
without smoke.
I sleep on this slab of a bed
in the town of Baler,
in an elementary
schoolhouse rented out.
Coppola asks
that I execute
a facsimile
of an adjacent life––
What a relief
to play the enemy
and to find her
a frightened 22 year old
shooting at a UH1 Huey.
Revenge foretells my living
well. In those days,
I was frugal with words,
opting to hide them instead
like gold poured
into a molar,
or cotton gauze
stuffed into a cheek
to stave off
the rattle
bitten into
my gums.
Cathy Linh Che
