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Issue Thirty-Six: Lydia Wei - The Adroit Journal

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Out on the veranda is your date from junior prom, slick as spilled hog’s blood in his handsome suit. You are sweeping the hair from his eyes and tumbling into his arms, you are innocent. In the field of paintbrushes where I laid you beneath my bare body, there stood a Babel of subwoofers playing mid-2000’s hits, teenage pop hooks caught and snared amidst the cicadas’ war-hum. Our two dirt-caked mouths against each other. Halting. What we’re doing isn’t wrong, you said, but it’s not right. What’s not right, I said. In my dreams there is a grizzled God, the wino stinking of cough syrup outside 7-11, who could kill me with what he knows about my future. In my dreams my mother tells me that actually, the worst part is I already know what my future looks like. When I run across the track field to where we once laid, I cross my mother as a young woman, shining white as an arrowhead in a dead doe’s ribs. She squats alone in the soft mouth of bushes under the bleachers, she wears her face of c

Issue Thirty-Six: Lydia Wei – The Adroit Journal Back to Issue Thirty-Six Camille I Adore BY LYDIA WEI Out on the veranda is your date from junior prom, slick as spilled hog’s blood in his handsome suit. You are sweeping the hair from his eyes and tumbling into his arms, you are innocent. In the field of paintbrushes where I laid you beneath my bare body, there stood a Babel of subwoofers playing mid-2000’s hits, teenage pop hooks caught and snared amidst the cicadas’ war-hum. Our two dirt-caked mouths against each other. Halting. What we’re doing isn’t wrong, you said, but it’s not righ

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