On an outdoor roller derby practice on Monday Night in Oakland

August Chun


Alex complains about transcribing and

how it takes too much time: what

about the intimacy of it, I ask. Yes, it is

intimate, she says, AND I don’t have

time for that anymore. She had sat in

Delah, tapping away and sending

messages while I drew in the cool

Oakland air, lit ablaze by the tall toxic

green plastic Ryobi lights, millions of

particles stirred by our moving

muscles, heated breath. At 8:30pm,

the sprinklers sputter to life like a

chorus of crickets sawing their legs

furiously in song. Two ambulances

sparkle their lights on the street

adjacent and my attention is drawn

away like Ulysses’ crew, by the sirens.

One person catches another in their

chest with a sharp exhale; they melt

into a loose embrace.

I’ve been overwhelmed, drawn to tears

while driving to another action and

another event and another meeting,

feeling there is not enough time, there

is too much to do, my brain, heart,

sinews, tearing at the seams. But

there is time enough for this, time

enough for the intimacy of a leaning

on for support after an ankle twisting,

a held hand, a small how are you.

There is time enough for this.

INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR

(1) What diasporas do you write into, and what diasporas do you write to create?

I write into and write to create queer East Asian diasporas: I feel keenly the desire to weave and create new family outside of a network that includes our bloodlines. 

(2) Where does this piece land within the greater history, body, and/or evolution of your work?

My work is deeply rooted in place and geography, and in my poetry, I seek always a groundedness in a location. As of late, I have been leaning into and exploring all of the expansive possibilities of queerness, and I feel this meets at the intersection of both, since roller derby is an extremely queer sport.

(3) How do "xenolithic edges” show up in your piece?

It's a hard time to be alive right now, especially if you're racialized and/or queer and trans. Our bodies are constantly the targets of marginalization, constantly at conflict with borders. I want this piece to travel over this, and capture a small moment of joy that escapes the violence of definition, of the sharp and rough edges of the state.

AUGUST CHUN (THEY/SHE) IS A QUEER HAN CHINESE CANADIAN SETTLER BASED ON UNCEDED ALGONQUIN ANISHNAABE LAND. THEY’VE BEEN PUBLISHED IN SEVENTH WAVE, AND HAVE WORK FORTHCOMING IN CRUCIAL COMIX AND PRISM. THEY HAVE RECEIVED SUPPORT FROM MCCORMACK WRITING CENTER, KEARNY STREET WORKSHOP, ABODE VIRTUAL RETREAT, AND THE PERIPLUS COLLECTIVE.