BIRTHRIGHT

​i know the place at beaver lake
             where the cattails parted to show you
a baby robin, fallen. a mercy
             of the midday blue. a twitching
handful of hunger, an icarus
             made brittle by yearning. i know
the place where you were a savior,
             where an angel was returned to its nest -
your fingers soft as dusk
             from the down that clung to them. and yet,
it ended as all things must:
             with my knees in the peat and
your palm against my crown,
             moon water coursing through my eyes
until i am swimming, made of it.
             i know the place at beaver lake
where the cattails were not enough
             to break my fall. oh mother, oh fleet
feather goddess, they will say
             that my wings melted off my back,
but it was you who snapped them
             like windpipes when you saw me
embracing the sun. my lips,
             scorched ember black from kissing her
and kissing her again - there is
             another name for this, and it is not
hubris. my meteorite body
             crumbling into crater at your feet - 
there is another love for this,
             and it is not named. mother, i saw you
that afternoon with my own two
             hearts. i saw that you saw me,
naked ribcage bird, saw you bless
             my bones that hollowed to soar free.
me then, in your hands. me now,
             beneath your hands, and the sun has fled,
and i have lost her behind the mountains
             because i am drinking lung after lung
of frigid light, face down dark,
             and still the moon in the water
is just a blank silver circle,
             and always i will girl, will be tearful lust
for gold. even clipped and charred,
             i can never forget how to fly. mother,
i know the place at beaver lake
             where you are drowning me.
my mouth too ragged to scrabble
             or plead; still, i know the place
where you found another daughter
             of the sky, and you knew then to show her
mercy, you knew mercy -

---

ABOUT HANNAH WANG

Hannah Wang is a Seattle woman who has been temporarily transplanted to Princeton University. She is very new to creative writing and has never been published in any professional capacity, but she hopes to study it alongside her public policy major. In addition to being a student, she is a poetry editor for Arch & Arrow Literary Magazine, a member of Songline Slam Poetry, and a senior writer for The Daily Princetonian.