Undiscovered
Arlene Ang
1
Deirdre is the countryside;
I buried her first. She acted, in her younger days,
in movies. Always the girl crossing
the street at different times wearing different
clothes but the same bruised
expression: There must be light here.
2
Here, Lin Fei is undressing.
Here, Lin Fei poses with a chartreuse pillbox hat.
Tattoos of ravens on her skin push her
into the background. I have
headshots of Lin Fei with the axe,
without the axe, and one holding Deirdre’s heart.
3
Olive is behind the false
wall. At night, the mice make more noise.
I still keep the Eiffel Tower snow globe she took
from Lin Fei’s bedroom. Olive helped
up to the end. One artless swallow of rat poison
brewed in her own coffee.
4
On her worse days, Ruth drinks
all day in the kitchen. Ruth is drawn to phone booths
and dialing 911. Olive is still my sister,
she says. I unlock the garden shed and let
Martha in. The shovel, propped against the wall,
is a finger poised to turn the page.
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