“Save your hands,” my mother says,
「保護好妳的手，」母親說，
seeing me untwist a jar’s tight cap—
當她看到我用力擰開一個罐頭蓋——
just the way she used to tell me
就像她從前一再告訴我
not to let boys fool around, or feel
別讓男孩子得逞，不許他們
my breasts: “keep them fresh
碰我的胸：「要把它們保留到
for marriage,” as if they were a pair
新婚之夜」，彷彿它們是一對
of actual fruit. I scoffed
貨真價實的水果。我諷刺地想像
to think they could bruise, scuff,
它們有朝一日會淤青，擦傷，
soften, rot, wither. I look down now
變軟，腐爛，枯萎。於是我低頭
at my knuckly thumbs, my index finger
看向我關節粗壯的大拇指，我的食指
permanently askew in the same classic
久久彎曲著，與她的如出一轍
crook as hers, called a swan’s neck,
像一個鉤子，美其名曰天鵝頸，
as if snapped, it’s that pronounced.
好似從中間折斷，不言而喻。
Even as I type, wondering how long
每當我打字，總忍不住懷疑
I’ll be able to—each joint in my left hand
我還能堅持多久——我左手的每個關節
needing to be hoisted, prodded, into place,
都盡力抬起，戳弄著，找到位置，
one knuckle like a clock’s dial clicking
指節如同錶盤上喀噠走動的指針
as it’s turned to open, bend or unbend.
伸直，彎曲，再放鬆。
I balk at the idea that we can overuse
我儘量迴避我們可能過度使用
ourselves, must parcel out and pace
自己的想法，我們理應分配並調試
our energies so as not to run out of any
精力，以便不至於在活著時
necessary component while still alive—
耗光必需的成分——
the definition of “necessary” necessarily
「必需」的定義必然
suffering change over time.
隨時間變易。
The only certainty is uncertainty, I thought
唯一確定的是不確定性，我以爲
I knew, so ignored whatever she said
我懂，我無視了一切
about boys and sex: her version of
她關於男孩和性的說詞：她的故事
a story never mine. It made me laugh,
不同於我的版本。我不禁發笑
the way she made up traditions, that we
對於她締造的傳統，說什麼我們
didn’t kiss boys until a certain age, we
直到適合年齡方能與男孩親吻，我們
didn’t fool around. What we? What part of me
沒有鬼混。我們誰是？我的哪部分
was she? No part I could put my finger on.
是她？定然不在我的手指所及。
How odd, then, one day, to find her
但是多麼不尋常啊，有一天，她在房間裡
half-napping in her room, talking first
打著瞌睡，先是自言自語
to herself and then to me, about a boy
然後對我說起她曾經認識的
she used to know, her friend’s brother,
一個男孩，她朋友的哥哥，
who she kissed, she said, just because
她吻了他，她說，僅僅因爲
he wanted her to. “Now why would I do that,”
他希望如此。「我爲什麼會那樣做呢？」
she mused, distraught anew and so freshly
她兀自沉思，心煩意亂，重新
stung by the self-betrayal, I reached across
被她的自我背叛所刺痛。我的手
the gulf my father left, to her side
越過父親留下的版圖，抵達
of their bed and stroked my future hand.
他們牀上她那一邊，撫摸在我未來的手上。