Selected Poetry

*Gaming, Austria, 2008, a camera-flashed blurred hand appears in the foreground holding a braid made from the dark hair of the artist and the orange hair of the artist’s friend*

dreading our tests, we go on
thrift shop expeditions to
embellish our skin for each other
we lie in your dorm bed
naked and laugh at how our
muscles are twitching from
lack of sleep
your breasts are white girl
breasts with cream and pink
mine are darker
you tell me that you can tell
how much sleep i've had by
my skin's color

we were learning the price
of sorrow before you had
the wrinkles to show it
you cried on halloween and
remembered that was the
night your dad died when
you were seven
i tried to get you to stop
cutting and pulling out your
eyelashes

we pretend to be lesbians in
the netherlands in case we
run into trouble with men
you love me so much and i
love you so much
that we braid your red gold
hair and my dark dark forest hair
together in one long braid
that meets in the middle

we don't sleep
we don't want to miss a
single moment
in my mind we're still
holding hands
just you and me with the
whole world ahead of us

- college braid spell poem, February 2021

*Sara Tang circa mid 1990’s as a child posed with her chin resting on her hands, with long dark hair, in an embroidered dress made by her grandmother*

*Frick Park, Pittsburgh, 2023. An old rotting tree trunk with cracks and beetle paths weaving in countless loops in the wood.*

I was the last to lose my first tooth
feeling left behind
looking up at everyone's names
on the kindergarten chart
Crying for the robin's egg I saved
that would never hatch

I didn't want a quarter for my tooth
I wanted to keep it
pearl in my palm
They all fell out, one by one
I kept them all and
watched them split
revealing old pathways inside

I was the last to bleed between my legs
I was learning to soak in
what other people wanted and
echo it back to them
Last to have my first kiss
Last to begin so many things

Nature does what she will in her own time
The beetle language in old bark is still here
I was learning to read it long ago
Love was something like the woods for me
rustling, piney, sacred, solemn
stretching on forever into the dark

- draft, 2023

Oil Pastels on paper / 6 x 6 inches / Jun. 2021
Two people’s faces, eyes closed; one behind wrapping arms around the one in the front who’s faintly smiling

In the morning my heart's singing wakes me
to the weight of your arms wrapping me in a nest
I can't believe in the reality of you, the rise and fall of your breath, your lashes softly falling on your face
and I rise from sticky ashes and make coffee
grinding the darkness of the beans into steam
filtering night's dreams into laughter as we sip
my heart scaling up and dancing across the strings
sweet as the honey tres leches cake that I put in your mouth
Licking the last crumbs from fingers
Not sure if they're yours or mine in the morning sunlight of our bodies

- June 2021

Not Your Model Minority, March 2021

I am not your server
blue collar or white china
not your model minority
not your wet anime dream
I am not here to give you a happy ending

my father named me -
"Honey, it's Sara"
which means princess
my mother named me ภรณ์ทิพย์
divine vestments for woman
gift from heaven
Marie means bitter ocean
Tang sweet sugar and in English
it's the strong scent, flavor, taste
sharp and lingering
the sound of ringing, clashing
bells peeling prayers to the sky
in the Buddhist temple on top of the mountain
in Thailand reminds me
of the bells in the Tuscan cathedrals

my humanity is sitting
on my shoulders like a mountain
on my shoulders like a mountain
the fog is clearing
fills my breath