ELON, JACK, AND JEFF TALK ABOUT THEIR DREAMS IN A SILICON VALLEY COFFEE SHOP
we are here to disrupt
but in a Good way
let us hack
your bodega
into something bite-
sized, something we recognize
turn it into
a vending machine
it’s now
a better bodega
you’re welcome
let us give everyone a voice
watch them Babel
each other’s skulls into ash
no voice is wrong
we are all
wrong in the trite
grace of these white spaces
let us safeguard freedom
of speech even
when it is born of a forked
tongue hung from
ashen necks
let us rest our hearts
on a pyramid
of shackled eyes
let our restless fingers
grope a path
to new net worths
our reach will grow long
across the oceans’
yielding bodies
and once we have finished
there will be Mars
MY GRANDMOTHER’S WALLPAPER
every time i go home
there is a new
piece of paper
on my grandmother’s walls
little reminders
that can’t be lost
the way she misplaces
her keys, the date, our names
*
星期一, 星期二, 星期三 1
written in thick felt pen, clipped
over the red and gold calendar, still
flipped to december 2017
funny
how we find ways
of living
in the past
i wonder when the days began
to blur, what is the last
day she remembers, if
she got to choose
to keep a happy day
or if the tape just
stops and rewinds stops
and rewinds
*
then came the 燈 2
taped to the lightswitch
with a giant 
drawn next to it
because that character
is not covered by
an elementary school education
in china
it would not have kept
her family’s bellies
warm anyway
*
then there was 不要出門 3
taped to the front door
because ah ma doesn’t remember
to wear her address
tag when she goes
for walks
one time my dad found her
twelve blocks from our house and still
walking. i suspect she is happier
not wearing our home
around her neck
*
every time i go home
there is a new
piece of paper
on my grandmother’s walls
every time i go home
she asks me
what day it is
i tell her
she says, “what’s that? i’m deaf”
i tell her again louder
she asks me again
what day it is,
i tell her again
it’s the only dance
we both know the steps to
but sometimes
she doesn’t summon
me to dance
sometimes
she is out
for a walk
1 星期一, 星期二, 星期三: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
2 燈: light
3 不要出門: Do not leave
Grace Lau is a queer Chinese-Canadian writer living in TkaRonto, part of the territory of the Mississauga, the Anishnabeg, the Haudenosaunee, and the Wendat peoples. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and is published or forthcoming in Frontier Poetry, Yes, Poetry, Arc, and elsewhere.