— Jenny Liu

Tuesday, 11:37PM

We used to think that it was glorious

to live on the edge of a deck of

cards until we looked into the

gray eyes of our fellow gamblers and

saw the holograph of our beautiful

bracelets dissolve into yellow chains...

Sunday, 2:01PM

You see: we learned

to mine thoughts from

the gilded hearts of

our prison guards.

Sunday, 2:02PM

You see: we learned

to spoonfeed each other the

broken words that we had

scraped from our little windows.

Sunday, 2:03PM

You see: we learned

how to say our name just

like how they say

their own names. Nobody.

Friday, 4:17AM

And we tied our new identity into our tongue

like a cherry stem knot, until the very outline

of our lips were tattooed with gray.

Nobody /

Nobody /

Nobody /


...Now—we sit with brick backbones and

broken keratin as the words This number is

no longer available tattoo themselves

behind capillaries and salt water.



Jenny Liu is a high school student from New York whose work has been recognized by the National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Alexandria Quarterly, Eunoia Review, After the Pause, Watershed Review, The Manhattanville Review, among others.