The Death of Chang Eng
- The Death of Chang Eng
“Eng … continued to lie there in a stupor for an hour more. And then he died.”
– The Two: The Story of the Original Siamese Twins by Irving and Amy Wallace
When I ask William, How is yourUncle Chang? he looks at the floor
and speaks through the mounting heat:Uncle Chang is cold … Our eyes meet
and he runs to find Adelaine, who let herselfbe courted into this strange life,
took me, and turned taboo to love.I won't look at Chang and won't forgive
his rotgut whisky, squealing womenhe took from behind, yang and yin
locked in lust, while I gazed at the lantern,distracting myself, the women
he’d hired again disappointedby my pocketed hand, my steel-clad
resolution to stay limp. I atefrom the leafy green garden, meat
never bled from my plate.But I couldn't stop him—profligate
of opium and spices, raw flank-steakdrenched with fu-yung. Bones broke
under the knife his left hand wielded.I’d have signed my name ten times in blood [End Page 120]
to end this coupling, the appendixthat connects us like a sword. Mix
of flesh and shadow, ego and other.… Uncle Chang is dead. My brother,
what could I have said when Williamtold me this, my heart slowing? That I’m
forgiving you for all of it? I hated youis the truth. Amazing: you never knew. [End Page 121]
Jeff Worley published two books last year: Driving Late to the Party: The Kansas Poems (Woodley Press), and A Little Luck, which won the 2012 X. J. Kennedy Poetry Prize (Texas Review Press). His newest poems can be found in recent or current issues of Atlanta Review, The Texas Review, The Louisville Review, Boulevard, Poetry East, and River Styx. Jeff lives and works in Lexington, Kentucky, where he does freelance writing and editing, and he also spends time at his Cave Run Lake cabin.
