with thanks to Christopher Chinn

Cutty as in crazy gook bitch will cut you,
cracking gum in the shadows of hi-rise ghetto-in-the-sky
before newspapers were spread on shag carpet
for that evening’s curry dinner
in the dark are her fingernails
shiny enough to be mistaken for blades?

Cutty as in Cutie, China Doll taking up
too much space at the Oriental Food market
stacking boxes of inter-ethnic ramen
stealing cans of Mr. Coffee during 15 minute break
ignores the stares from white men with rings
on their fingers-
and in the parking lot,
I fought for your people in the war, bitch, you owe me.

Cutty as in Cuttlefish, or more accurately squid,
moc her daddy would heat up for her on the greased plug-in grill
that would blow fuses in the house if the microwave
was used at the same time, that stink the neighbors
complained about, along with the perfume of
fish sauce, the pre-crunk of Viet new wave,
that smell and sound, the gooks have come,
watch out for your pets,
American tragedy turned bestseller
between the covers of a book.

Cutty as in cu chi, traitor in a tunnel
rising snake-like
from a hole you never expected in the earth,
innocent dirt you could turn your back to
suddenly now the slant-eyed succubus
stabbing you with a chopstick she took from the bun
in her hair

Cutty as in never quietly, but seldom heard, as in, Cutty as in who gives
a fuck what you think anyway, Cutty as in everything I need to be, as in, Cutty is not my name and it should be obvious but you never asked.

to the white girl who saw a bunch of us little Southeast Asian kids watch her brother play a video game in the Asian grocery and said “these gooks are surrounding us.” 

Did we douse you in chemicals that twisted your future generations
to flesh pretzels
stripmine your resources
then fusion fuck your family dinner

Did we light garlands of fire
onto your sacred mountains,
push your people to tiny fingers of dry land
explore what was already found
then name your beautiful landmarks
after ourselves

Did we push your people into jobs
where toxic fumes turned your lungs to scorched wings
your nails breaking on our skin
to paint ours pretty

Did we spin your history to smoke
Hook you on snorting the ashes

Did we convince the entire world your men
have cocks small as minnows
scar barbed wire borders using plastic surgery
break your legs to
make you taller

Did we gentrify your love life

Did we convince your people
that we taught them the word love
and what it means to be free

Did we redefine torture
for our own benefit

Did we measure ourselves in fathoms
then force you to swim in us
until you drown?

these gooks are surrounding us

if only
that were true.

In memory of Fong Lee
And for the Lee family, and the Justice for Fong Lee committee

In 2006, Minneapolis Police Officer Jason Andersen shot and killed Fong Lee, a 19-year old Hmong American.  Andersen was awarded a Medal of Valor, though the Lee family and community members allege that Fong Lee was unarmed and the gun found on the scene was planted by police.  During a foot chase in North Minneapolis, Andersen shot at Lee 9 times, 1 bullet missing, the other 8 hitting Fong Lee as he ran and as he lay dying on the ground.

1.
Community members point out that accusations about Fong Lee’s history and character, specifically allegations that he was in a gang, were allowed in court and written about in the press.   But Officer Andersen’s alleged dislike of Asians and history of derogatory remarks against Asians was neither allowed in court nor written about in the press. 

One of the devil’s greatest powers
Is to force you to take a deal
That he himself would never take.

2.
Fong Lee was 19 (gang member). I can imagine him (gang member) and his (gang member) family. They are eating (gang member) something that steams and it does not steam like food from this (gang member) country, the smell lingers (gang member) like home.  It is Minnesota so (gang member) the lights inside no matter how dim somehow makes (gang member) all indoor rooms feel warm.  Now its summer and he’s fishing with his (gang member) friends.  They (gang member) get on bikes and their (gang member) legs drape low, (gang member), arms lazy crosses on the handlebars.   Their heads lean as they debate the Minnesota Vikings (gang member) and the Minnesota Twins, slapping absently at the logos (gang member) on their caps and (gang member) shirts.

3.
Officer Jason Andersen (hero) shot Hmong American teenager Fong Lee eight times (to serve and protect). A bullet wound in Fong Lee’s hand suggests the teenager may have held his hands up in surrender (decorated officer) as Officer Andersen (white) shot (Medal of Valor) him.  Andersen was also charged with domestic assault (peace officer) by his girlfriend though charges were later dropped (officer of the law).  Officer Andersen (police officer) was also accused of kicking (hero) an African American teenager who was on the ground in handcuffs in 2008.

4.
An all-white jury found Officer Anderson not guilty of using excessive force.
Put a blindfold on me
Tell me who you fear
And I will tell you
Your skin.

5.
I’m wondering when people will care.
If we made your story into a movie about killing dolphins, perhaps.

6.
I’m 18 and the brutal cold holsters my hands into the warm solace of my jacket pockets.  The police officer snaps his hand to his gun.  My pockets are empty.  My hands open.  Still.  My story would have ended in smoke and red snow.  If my body lay there, perforated, would I bleed through holes in his story?

7.
Lost, you turn the car around and see trees stretching up like greenbrown fencing up to the blue skies.  For a moment you think that woods stretch forever, somewhere close a bubbling stream whispers white kisses across worn rocks, a deer leans its neck down to drink, the velvet moss of a hushed secret world here in your city.  But just beyond the neck of scrub trees is the hint of chain-link, the distant ghost silhouette of strip mall, just one step past the shadows of those leaves are railroad tracks running like stitches over broken glass and gravel.

Minnesota Nice: this city hides its scars so well.

8.
All our lives, men with guns.
Chased, in the womb, in the arms
Of our parents.

Our parents
Chased, all our lives,
By men with guns.

In the womb, in our parent’s arms
We’ve run
Chased by men with guns.

(9).
Michael Cho.  Cau Thi Bich Tran.  John T. Williams.
Tycel Nelson.  Oscar Grant.  Fong Lee.
May your names be the hymn
wind that sways
police bullets to miss.