#SIP - Poem by Ginger Yifan Chen


in addition to the grief

by Ginger Yifan Chen



in addition to the grief,


we are now in memoriam

of public places, of overheard

conversations, of strangers

discovered and lost,


in this non-space, this stasis,

we cuddle with dust bunnies &

stare at faces two-dimensional,

blurry,     & soft,


it is now the noon-dark of a sun

shining over constant rooftop,

it is now nighttime, it is now dawn,

our star had crossed


the sky silently, in socks &

on tiptoes, and we can't

hear her because our

clocks don't work anymore.


i have journeyed through the whitewashed

catacombs of this house & found three new treasures:


a notch in the doorframe that marks 5'3" in 2012

a collection of magazines yellowed by the decade

an altoids tin with my baby teeth rattling inside


i have been banned from washing the dishes after

my mother and i yelled about where the

sponge should go

i have worn a hole in the carpet from too much 

pacing and yet i have not paced enough.

i have not touched pavement in three weeks.


i do not step outside because

my mother is afraid of more than the

black mold in the sink

i do not step outside because

people lie frozen & stacked like bricks that

may lay a foundation

i do not step outside because

i will have to step back in again


i dream about a bus ride that never ends

i dream about a glass-shattering break-in

i dream about a snowstorm in alaska

i do not dream about flying


in addition to the cabin fever,

the anxiety, the hatred,

in addition to the stories and

and their translations

in addition to compassion,

and the love,


in addition to the grief,

we are now in memoriam

of so many things.


Ginger Yifan Chen is a Shanghai-born writer, filmmaker, and poet. She has been published in Calliope Art & Literature Magazine and the Underground Zine. She recently graduated from Chapman University with a BA in Screenwriting, and currently resides in San Francisco.






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