This April, to recognize and honor National Poetry Month, we curated a folio of poems by 10 Asian American high school students. This page features Grace Wang's "Confessions to My Father." We invite you to take a moment to read the other nine poems in this collection here.

— Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello, Poetry Editor

Confessions to My Father

I have worn every version
of bitterness around my neck
like a cangue, bruises printed
on my shoulders in the shape
of your fingernails. And after
each round of imprisonment
I decide that I cannot blame you
for wanting a son.
It was how you were fathered.

And how I was fathered:
I remember you planting
the sapling of a Chinese cherry tree
in the backyard, a tradition to
bless the family. It was a tree
that never flowered but produced
fruit anyway. I ate its cherries greedily
and marveled at the red stains
that trickled down my throat.
That year I was drenched
in the guilt of my love for you.
I played baseball and buzzed
my hair close to my scalp
so you could fantasize about me.

When I later faced you,
with wet lips
and a bloody body,
you criticized confidently,
disregarding the way
I had tenderized girlish.

How manly it is
for a father to seek fault
in his own child.

In fact, no womanhood
sticks to me so firmly
as the one you have implanted:
a ripe cherry hanging loosely
from its thin stem, lips open.
Ready to relinquish its seed
in exchange for a hollow body,
which will fall silently
from its tarnished anchor
once winter comes.

About This Poem:
I imagine my father as a cherry tree: one that never flowers but dutifully produces fruit anyway. He raised me like a princess, but in many ways he sees himself as a king, and sometimes I wonder if I am enough for him. Even if we view the world differently, I will always be his daughter, the fruit that grew without a flower to welcome it.

This piece was published as part of the April Youth Poetry Folio. To see other works from the folio, please visit the table of contents here.