Alex Fang

Summer 2025 | Poetry

Self-Portrait as a Sentence

Forgetting itself,

 

the sentence starts             again

         in a different tongue,

above                         a drawer of

Schrödinger’s roaches,

           trying to remember where

next to go but

        thinking it best to first

fill                                 the drawer

        with some more

letters, so

 

off                            the sentence

goes, plodding

                   through lectures and

seminars, by dark eaves-

               dropping on characters

                  facing away

from the shot,         rubbing itself

against idle                       chatter

         about town, nodding

                at jokes it just does not

                                   get, turning

around         to repeat them

        anyway, dreaming      

                                    in the back

          of a cab that they

did land, a-

 

waking                      the morning

after able to answer

           the telephone,            able

to pass as a longer sentence

         in fact,

regurgitating               hypotactic

          scraps, replete

with synthetic

                opinions, closet full

of Latinate locutions

        but nothing to wear,

always scurrying

 

by                  mirrors, wondering

if it counts             as one

          sentence all the

same, identifying as

                                    mirror, yet

often still responding

            in earnest to

                     “how are you”s that            

    have         already

walked        

 

past,                no chance to edit,

      years later

just       slouching along,

 stretching              long and thin,

             moving funny,

swaths of letters

          spelling but a simulacrum,

                  and in the

vertigo it           imagines

                            itself forgetting

again,

 

starting                       out where

        it first did,

                    on a woman’s back,

falling

         because mom        slipped

on a piece of water-

                       melon rind; it

heard her                         cry out

in Mandarin.

Alex Fang is a lawyer and poet based in Brooklyn. She is a graduate of Columbia Journalism School and Harvard Law School, and the translator of a new edition of Shen Fu’s Six Records of a Floating Life (Printim Editions, 2025) from classical Chinese.

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