Two poems by Soon Jones

"At the Oncology Clinic"

Did our tumors beat in sync

across the decades?

My mother, resigned and afraid—

me waiting, always,

for it to be over.

Our church prayed for her death, certain

it was the will of God she suffered

this wither of flesh and bone.

I, having learned, tell no one and so

they can’t pray for me,

no calls toward some divine being

to kill me quick.

I stand alone

in an ice-slicked parking lot,

the clouds weeping snow.

That Once in A Lifetime

She asks if I’ve ever been in love.

Instantly, I think of you:

your warm skin, your tired smile,

the way your eyes light up

when I make you laugh.

I never told you, did I?

I never will. How embarrassing.

I still dream about you,

and in those dreams you’re mine,

or rather I’m yours,

and we do all those things

I’m too afraid to ask for.

Maybe I self-sabotage

just a little bit, seek out women

to love with my hands and mouth

who can’t love me back. Maybe

I’m a little too cavalier, 

a little too How do you want it, babe,

and they’re a little too

That was fun, I’ll see you

around, and never call.

I’ve never loved, I lie,

and don’t tell her

how your name

haunts my tongue.

Soon Jones is a Korean-American lesbian raised in the rural countryside of the American South. A 2017 Lambda Literary Fellow, they are pursuing an MFA in Poetry at Oklahoma State University. Their work has appeared in Lavender Review, Denver Quarterly, Lunch Ticket, Poetry South, Moon City Review, and others. Their debut chapbook, These Aren’t My Woods Anymore, is upcoming from Poetose Press. They can be found at soonjones.com.