let go of my throat
so I can cough
free your fear
from my trachea
my diaphragm
is exploding
I step onto the subway
with white flags
tacked to my skin
I whisper to my nose
begging please
don’t run
then take ten paces
to the nearest empty seat
my mom calls
to tell me the Chinese aunties
are sharing videos on WeChat
of Asians in white masks
getting their lungs
ripped out their chests
by white men searching for weapons
of mass destruction
she cries there’s no use
in wearing white
masks in public
we’re under attack
either way
our bodies at war
with the world
and a virus
so I close my eyes
and imagine a day
I no longer feel like a guest
in my own country
I hold my breath
waiting
for when I’m the host
and not the pathogen
—Kyle Liang (from Glass: A Journal of Poetry)