“Ars Fami” by Angela Xiao
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets’ daily poetry dispatch. Read “Ars Fami” by Angela Xiao, first place winner of the 2025 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize for Canadian Youth, junior category.
Ars Fami
By Angela Xiao
The aluminum suturing your mother
is a blackening peel. Should you not split it,
let the gore-light of her heart
throb against the air, let her ribs
sing rust where we press our fingerprints?
The heat gnawing your mother’s eyes
is a maw of good fire, hungry fire.
Should you not drown it in your mouth,
so she can watch our shadows lick the wall,
two wolves chewing the same last coal—
Your mother’s stomach is a gutted bell.
Should you not tongue its clapper,
let the hollow teach you how hunger
outgrows the body? Listen:
even the flies refuse to choir
this silence. Should you not
kneel here and starve with me,
until our throats are the same
rusted flute?
We could stay here, yes? Two bodies
sewn to the wall by our own sweating hands.
Should you not plant me like your mother,
but let me root in your arms, a bloom
fattened on spoiled light, until our skeletons
are one crooked ladder?
and when our daughter cracks us open
like a geode, she’ll find the honey
still crawling as the rot sings in our throats.
When she lifts the veil of rust between
our lives and hers,
should you not whisper through my
wax-stiffened lips and aluminum skin:
leave us be,
the living make poor relics,
and we were never holy,
just hungry?
Copyright © Angela Xiao
First place winner of the 2025 Jessamy Stursberg Poetry Prize for Canadian Youth, junior category.
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