Fall 2018

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Staff:

Aili Francis Campbell Silver stein Jordan White Kazumi Fish Olivia Najera Paul McLaren Simone Rober ts-Payne Rebekah Song Chaltu Rashid Jiyoon Par k Ricardo Vega Hasanti Kelly Akanksha Kalasabail Dara Swan Neel Madala

the-ankh.org @theankh_

Front Cover: Campbell Silverstein Back Cover: Romina Beltran This edition was sustainably printed with support from:

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if not apetalous, i am deciduous Akanksha Kalasabail

i have a Family who have made me forget how to cry when I’m sad. my House—which i am not sure is my home anymore—is full of sugary spicy scents and creaky floorboards. often i walk into my Room—which i am not sure is my home anymore—and Things are Shifted around: my books, my loves, have been placed in a different order, my blankets have been switched around, rediscovered memorablia has been framed on my wall and if i try shifting these little things back to how I want them, if i can find them, my Mother cries. i love my Mother. but She cries about how alone She is and since i can never, or just don’t, say anything back, the silence on my end of the receiver resounds and then we just sit in Her silence. my Mother told me Her favorite flower was called Rajnigandha—which is not what the flower is called in Spanish, Hawaiian, or any language from Mexico, the Philippines, Indonesia, India, or Iran. the flower, like the sky, changes color at night. my Mom says Her favorite color is black but preens in the light of a camera flash. my Mother calls me “galliig hudugi” whenever i’m sarcastic. galli is Hindi for “rude,” and hudugi is Kannada for “girl.” even linguistically, Her Love for me is confused. i am a daughter, a friend, a therapist, a true Love. i want to get jasmine flowers tattooed on my body so my Mother’s scent will never leave me, so i can always have the image of Her eyes sparkling every time She attempts to tuck white flowers through the unruly curls She gave me even though they aren’t Hers. sometimes waking up in my childhood home feels like the sticky heaviness when staring into direct sunlight. i think my Mother looks great, even it feels like it’s too hard to open my eyes.

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Nola Nelson

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“Promesas” Ricardo Vega

No importa cuantas millas lejos estas Siempre estaré cercano. No importa cuantas horas tomará de llegar Siempre llegaré en segundos. No importa cuantos lugares he visto Porque contigo, siempre estoy en mi hogar. Y no importa cuantas canciones he oído Porque la tuya siempre quiero oírte cantar. Pero tu no me crees. Porque alguien más te dijo Estas mismas promesas Y dejaron tu corazón herido. Te sientes lejano. No te sientes en tu hogar. Y nunca cantas, Porque crees que nadie te quiere escuchar. Pero yo te prometo… Que siempre estoy cercano. Y siempre te voy a oír. Y si llorando estas Te voy a tratar de hacerte reir. Y a mi no me importa Si tengo que esperar Para que tu me ames Porque tu eres la persona quien quiero amar.

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Romina Beltran

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the kind of love that yells and is ours Gisselle Yepes

teeth sucked. what you said? she not. say i love. you. rolls. eyes pierce. respetame just ask. for blessings. she is. god. bendiciรณn. you mean, this blessing. loves u. back. que dios te bendiga. kiss. cold hands. ma cooks. sings longing into / above our meal. we sing. eat longing. never long. with voice. toma. just pass. longing to me, slice it. i promise. to pocket. never ask. weeeeeeeeeepa laughs. shakes. our pockets. olle, esto es amor

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not there yet | voicemail Rachel K. Godfrey

hey. hey babe. oh. yeah. definitely not there yet. but I know this apology is probably overdue or maybe that it’s irrelevant considering you don’t really know what I’m apologizing for and while I probably should/ shouldn’t I’d like to take a few seconds/minutes/literally every single drop of time you may have for the next three lives to explain something that’s. been on my mindddd lately. it’ll be quick. promise. you see, when I said I was sorry for the other night what night? oh, you know (the night I showed up to your house wine-drunk and tried to suck your dick with this 4-day old lip piercing and you thought my eyes were tearing because you’re ‘so big’ but in reality I was regretting not trusting Mushu the piercer when he said ‘no dick is worth that kind of pain’) you see, when I said I was sorry for the other night I was apologizing for more than the yellowtail breath partially because I would never apologize for enjoying discounted wine with my friends but mostly I was apologizing for the snakespeak. what’s that? oh, you know the inbetweenkisses thoughtsyoucan’tsee buticanHEARandFEEL the ThisIsOkay because MyGodItIsDoItAgain that always seems to come in a cute pair the other shoe [ready to drop] being the HeUsedToTouchMeLikeThis. but snakespeak like you know – oops I forgot you don’t – only does BOGO sales. bougie on a budget. haha. oh yes. off topic.

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snakespeak only does BOGO sales. the IWanttoHoldYou couldn’t be separated from the IveNeverBeenHeld and so as I’m sitting here hissing in heat I can’t think of it. it. how to teach you snakespeak. how to show you that I’m always here and always there and always warmed by you but always scared and maybe I did and do drink too much wine and maybe I am drunk right now and maybe I should’ve listened to Mushu and maybe I should’ve told you your dick is still cool it’s just the piercing but it’s taking me some time to learn the language myself. and so I’m sorry. so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah! don’t know if that all made sense but you can call me back at ---------sorry again. bye.

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Kelly D’oleo


Minu Jun

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are people immune to tragic unless they see it right before their eyes? Simone Rober ts-Payne that writing about violence shit is played out right? like that writing about police brutality and anti-blackness shit is played out right? but my heart stopped. i was on the phone and my heart stopped and i couldn’t do nothing but watch And there were people filming it and i’ll see it later right? by phone or on the news just another altercation this shit is played out And i don’t think it’s writing about it I think it’s the feeling of my heart stopping and i’m saying why are there fourteen police officers standing around and why is everyone screaming and why is everyone screaming and why am i screaming and it’s me and why am i lingering with every altercation like i can’t stop watching like i’ll be able to do something about make a difference like watching is played out but i can’t stop because nothing is changing and maybe if they film it it will stop right?

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Sige Zheng

Previous Spread: Dara Swan (p.12), Noa Lin (p.13)

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Gravity

Janak Preston

coalesce the we was collateral in conversation w/ jazz flutter tongue shit etc. you know the speckled salt, the scattered i pulling out all the slops. ecstatic particulate clay like wet windowing lilt flecks‌ this is a harvesting (eels squirm) resonant sound as coming from you (cross legs to hide) who felt that like linger? (and watch) shore to signal flying (heartbeat wriggle its way) and again to gather further (down) clamor. the quiet trying (into feet)

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My Hyacinth Kevin Li

O! eternal sun-kissed flower of ages dark, Pressed in these pages, as petals in book: Zephyros disturbs thee not, though disturbs he Who stole thy love, who’st stolen thee. You are Python, to which the bow flings the fiery arrow! —Golden tips piercing through wheat— You are slain, but come again.You are: The sun feeds. You suffer, throwing yourself against the heat, Against the Western Wind: which blossoms bite— Dragged to a brook, then saved by ravens. I bury you, in cemetery. I bury you, by talking. And by my hand, your flower-buds.

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Keizo Fish


watch her mouf it is a thing of beauty Mya Valentin

I love women who talk shit shit talking too-loud women who cackle in the middle of the street regaling homegirl with the tale of how she called the cops on her mans last night telling him to get his cryin ass lyin ass bum ass out her mu-fukin house hAhahahAhHAhAA bitches who smile like hyenas when they hear you call them a bitch leaning over countertops in every restaurant named La Isla on this island of Manhattan women who push and pull their lovers towards and away like capricious tides teasing in daylight only to give all of themselves over under the moon mothers whose same hands discipline and coddle their sons daughters whose same lips kiss fathers and pull moans talk back cut ass

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spin stories and coo Venus in the boots with the fur celestial beings chained to this earth she knows all too well the follies of mankind and still finds the time to shake that ass bump n grind laugh n cry women who have survived men who mistake tears for holy water break bodies like bread and call it communion women who radiate in excess because they have felt the cold breath of death, and said no when she laughs at you be grateful for that blessing

Hasanti Kelly

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Katherine Puntiel

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My Hair: Cosmic Curls

Cassidy Morales

Every day my hair triumphs against the weak hands of gravity Curling and coiling to the heavens Without permission Without apology My hair Can win against the stiff silver talons of the hot flat iron A mere drop of rain is enough For my curls to regain their strength So resilient in this way Curls so strong That they can burst Through the straightened shackles That I so foolishly chose to imprison them in Proving that they are there for a reason To be seen, felt, Worshipped My hair Is a dynamic and vitalizing paint palette Filled with the deepest of blacks and browns That can turn a glowing bright red When the sun’s rays grace the top of my head Like a divine crown My own personal halo My hair Gleams with a subtle white shine That dresses my curls like pearls Complementing them differently and totally With every bounce, turn, step, bop, scrunch My hair Can entrap even the cleverest explorer Luring him with its own gravitational pull He’ll lose his way within its ever-changing twists and turns So strong, so dark, so lively Being lost in my hair Is like navigating the enchanting depths of the Cosmos So perplexing, so powerful, so intriguing So strong, so dark, so lively So beautiful.

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Vietnamese Kiss An Pham First, Press your nose against Hard against Your lover’s face... hand if you’re feeling Amorous! Press! Press, press… Until the word itselflosesmeaning Until you relieve the soreness you feel in your jaw From correcting person After person It’s Nguyen! No, not Win And thankfully not New Guy In. Jesus fuck… You people can pronounce Aristotle. Then, Sniff! That’s right, inhale your lover! Breath them in As if you are searching for every place they’ve Ever been to In the pores Every pain, every hurt As if your nose is helicopters Withdrawing (white) soldier after soldier From the burning inferno that was my homeland… But which left behind he whose Frame was frail and whose right arm was charmingly crooked He whose merry gait still haunts the Saigon streets like it does my grandmother’s lonely nights Fuuuuck you! I scream for he who was abandoned in the carnage, He who bore my mother who bore me who bears the same gait who Bursts at the seams with yellow rage who Inhales her lovers because hurried Frantic lovemaking is in my DNA.

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Fuck your shy American kisses. Finally, release. Pull away with punctuation. Show the white people who compete with each other On how much sriracha they can squirt into their pho Until their tongues numb and their hair sweat, Show them Vietnamese heat and Vietnamese pain and Vietnamese love and Vietnamese rain, In how we kiss.

Mahey Gheis

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