What we know — Cady Wu
“You have to be always drunk.” —Charles Baudelaire
Those claw marks are tangled messes in a bed.
It is hard to live with sunburns as tattoos. Do you
remember that? The bells still echoing
like pebbles skittering across the sea
going plop plop plop. This is how we live: like
animals suffocating in sound, shots of
vodka running circles across the carpet. That
we turn white on a marble floor. Morning will
never come, not with us swallowing the sun,
so I watch your moon-crested eyes
like they will disappear, too. It is cold
but our bodies are warm. You tell me
hazelnut is not the same as brown, & I tell you
about the red-blue flashing behind like
movie lights. Still, your limbs are flailing
like a goldfish on a rock. The cassette tape starts
playing something again, so I hum myself
back into existence. I mean the water, really.
Before drowning, I see what I know again. That
poetry is poetry because it is real. That I have never
lived drunk enough. That underneath the stars, you are
still dancing with the fireflies, & somehow,
I am beginning to believe that this is all worth it.
Cady Wu is a poet, writer, and artist of all sorts based in the Seattle area. Her work has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Writers and the Chinese American Citizens Alliance, and her work can be found or forthcoming in Polyphony Lit, Saints & Fleurs, and American High School Poets. In her free time, she enjoys stargazing, baking, and hugging her tabby cat.