Illustration by Jorja Garcia
I am a bad daughter I have never killed
a spider the spiders are aware of this they string
extra sticky silk webs across my bedroom door I’ve
been walking through spiderwebs white fibers
sprout from my scalp when I step out I taught
myself how to knit I wanted to knit a sweater
for my mother on her birthday but the yarn
unraveled the sweater became yarn besides
my mother was born in the summer my mother
red like rain my mother’s hands webbed white
with scars like fish scales she killed the fish in our kitchen
she kills the spiders that cling to her shadows I am no better
than a thing in the shadows I leave home at seventeen
my red yarn stretched over a map the guilt stretches me the distance
stretches the spiderwebs until one
by one the bridge cables snap concrete knuckles crack
and crumble in one bite I am swallowed by river water
a boneless fishtail sliding down a throat
Vanessa Yang (she/her) is a junior at Barnard majoring in biochemistry. She enjoys driving next to the beach, taking pictures of the sky, and talking about California. You can find her on Instagram @vanessayyang.