Christian Hanz Lozada
There Is a Judgement
You know it exists
but everyone around you says it doesn't.
Sometimes you can feel it pressing in
as your partner submerges in a place
filled with drinks and smiles
swims amongst outfits that cost
far more than all your clearance-rack choices,
outfits that were supposed to,
ironically,
look as worn as yours.
but everyone around you says it doesn't.
Sometimes you can feel it pressing in
as your partner submerges in a place
filled with drinks and smiles
swims amongst outfits that cost
far more than all your clearance-rack choices,
outfits that were supposed to,
ironically,
look as worn as yours.
You know it exists
when you open your mouth to add to the babble
your every word is a comparison of education,
region,
wealth.
Each laugh you hear isn't about you
but it might as well be.
when you open your mouth to add to the babble
your every word is a comparison of education,
region,
wealth.
Each laugh you hear isn't about you
but it might as well be.
All of them,
your partner included,
breathe so easily here
while you
you gasp
not like a fish out of water,
no, like a fish in waters whose oxygen levels
are just not the same
your gills don't work the same
have to work harder
longer
for half a breath.
your partner included,
breathe so easily here
while you
you gasp
not like a fish out of water,
no, like a fish in waters whose oxygen levels
are just not the same
your gills don't work the same
have to work harder
longer
for half a breath.
The Second Marriage Was for Love and Unforgivable (CW: alcohol)
White Grandma married a Mexican who saw her
glow in the dark of Brown bars with housekeeping
coworkers. He'd see her glisten with morning-after
effort, in a dim hospital closet, hunched over
chemical bottles, mixing industrial advancements
with country know-how. He kept an eye out for her
pushing an overloaded cleaning cart room to room,
erasing bacteria and viruses with rags, concoctions,
and hands that learned meticulous speed in cotton fields.
Under her fingertips, death and recovery had no difference.
glow in the dark of Brown bars with housekeeping
coworkers. He'd see her glisten with morning-after
effort, in a dim hospital closet, hunched over
chemical bottles, mixing industrial advancements
with country know-how. He kept an eye out for her
pushing an overloaded cleaning cart room to room,
erasing bacteria and viruses with rags, concoctions,
and hands that learned meticulous speed in cotton fields.
Under her fingertips, death and recovery had no difference.
Never particularly good at math, he saw her wild
and reserved need in the downing of beer after beer
but stopping short of danger. He saw her controlled
chaos in how she clung to her adult babies'
babies but never held them long and summed these
mixed variables as the mother of his generations,
focusing on that passionate cling and ignoring
its sisterhood to fragility in the face of future loss.
and reserved need in the downing of beer after beer
but stopping short of danger. He saw her controlled
chaos in how she clung to her adult babies'
babies but never held them long and summed these
mixed variables as the mother of his generations,
focusing on that passionate cling and ignoring
its sisterhood to fragility in the face of future loss.
To her, that glow he saw was hellfire coming
to collect on a failed marriage and hope
for a little life after. She said yes to doom.
to collect on a failed marriage and hope
for a little life after. She said yes to doom.
Self-Binding (CW: self-harm)
I'm closer to White Mom than Brown Dad.
My reasons were racist
not from intent
but from the evidence.
I'm closer to White Mom because we talk.
Brown Dad doesn't.
Not to me.
And growing up,
my model for Whiteness was words
all the words!
White Mom wanted the library
paid my fines
talked to me about stories.
Brown Dad wanted the library
but stopped at the first sign of debt
and never talked
not to me.
So I thought,
"Filipinos don’t have the words!
They can't say what they want to say!"
And I stopped.
And in the silence, I'd drag my nails across my skin
graduating to knives.
I let my skin
and the scars I created
speak for me.
"We don't have the words to express anything,"
I wouldn't say;
instead,
I would hold out my arms
like a hug
hoping my body had the words
my Filipino tongue did not.
My reasons were racist
not from intent
but from the evidence.
I'm closer to White Mom because we talk.
Brown Dad doesn't.
Not to me.
And growing up,
my model for Whiteness was words
all the words!
White Mom wanted the library
paid my fines
talked to me about stories.
Brown Dad wanted the library
but stopped at the first sign of debt
and never talked
not to me.
So I thought,
"Filipinos don’t have the words!
They can't say what they want to say!"
And I stopped.
And in the silence, I'd drag my nails across my skin
graduating to knives.
I let my skin
and the scars I created
speak for me.
"We don't have the words to express anything,"
I wouldn't say;
instead,
I would hold out my arms
like a hug
hoping my body had the words
my Filipino tongue did not.
Survival to Where?
White Not-Grandpa survived his surgery
the one he was sure meant death
and didn't know how to handle the next breath
and the one after that
and the one after.
the one he was sure meant death
and didn't know how to handle the next breath
and the one after that
and the one after.
To cope, he quit.
His already gravelly voice
became soft, like a lake wave,
like wind through grass
and it always said "No."
His already gravelly voice
became soft, like a lake wave,
like wind through grass
and it always said "No."
To cope, he quit
kept his chin pinned to his chest
like he wanted his body to collapse inward
but it couldn't
it was far from fetal
but not the opposite
kept his chin pinned to his chest
like he wanted his body to collapse inward
but it couldn't
it was far from fetal
but not the opposite
To cope, he quit
ignored the encouragement, the advice, the pleads
and kept singing
"I fell into a burning ring of fire
and it burns
burns
burns"
Never the whole song,
never the whole chorus
always the important part,
in that whispering sand voice:
"and it burns
burns
burns."
ignored the encouragement, the advice, the pleads
and kept singing
"I fell into a burning ring of fire
and it burns
burns
burns"
Never the whole song,
never the whole chorus
always the important part,
in that whispering sand voice:
"and it burns
burns
burns."
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