A Beast Needs to Hunt and I Must be Caught

My huli jing has a fetish for human flesh. He thinks we are playing a game. He douses my hair in fermented bean curd and anoints my teeth with pickled fingerroot. How we root and root! He dangles milkcap mushrooms down my throat and daubs wolfberry between my toes. He christens me his pretty boy and asks will I perform a trick for him. He coaxes me into his kitchen and sits me in a basin of water. How tender, he cries and his eyes stray into golden-yellow slits. When he dreams, nine downy tails fan behind his sleeping form and in the morning I keep quiet. Will I perform a trick for him? A tasty secret: I want his nine downy tails lashing against my back, between my legs, stuffed into my mouth. Human skin is such a sagging bore. I require damp noses and leathery claws and fine teeth hooked into fleshy apertures. A beast needs to hunt and I must be caught. My huli jing does not know I have espied his true form. His human shape no longer delights me. I tongue sylvan debris from his fingernails and quiver. I have seen beneath his epidermal vessel and desire what I should not: a fleet-footed whip of auburn fur and handsome snout. I am slippery with mischief. I am plump with violent libation. Meddlesome Chang’e looks down from the night sky and yawns—slutty boy, she says, you will be eaten. She says what is obvious; I tell her to meddle elsewhere. What delays my huli jing? I become more appetizing. I plate myself in sorghum-soaked rice and boiled pork intestine and sweet rose jam. We root and root. My patience runs thin. Will I perform a trick? I present him with a knife made for slitting and gutting. My dear boy, he says, I know what you want. He kisses my thigh; his whiskers scratch. The intimation of incisors lives behind soft lips and gums. My blood is all amok. Please devour me, I cry, this game is torture and I must be consumed. Silly boy, I cannot give you what you want, my huli jing tells me. For hunger is desire and I am still very, very hungry.

My huli jing has a fetish for human flesh. He thinks we are playing a game. He douses my hair in fermented bean curd and anoints my teeth with pickled fingerroot. How we root and root! He dangles milkcap mushrooms down my throat and daubs wolfberry between my toes. He christens me his pretty boy and asks will I perform a trick for him. He coaxes me into his kitchen and sits me in a basin of water. How tender, he cries and his eyes stray into golden-yellow slits. When he dreams, nine downy tails fan behind his sleeping form and in the morning I keep quiet. Will I perform a trick for him? A tasty secret: I want his nine downy tails lashing against my back, between my legs, stuffed into my mouth. Human skin is such a sagging bore. I require damp noses and leathery claws and fine teeth hooked into fleshy apertures. A beast needs to hunt and I must be caught. My huli jing does not know I have espied his true form. His human shape no longer delights me. I tongue sylvan debris from his fingernails and quiver. I have seen beneath his epidermal vessel and desire what I should not: a fleet-footed whip of auburn fur and handsome snout. I am slippery with mischief. I am plump with violent libation. Meddlesome Chang’e looks down from the night sky and yawns—slutty boy, she says, you will be eaten. She says what is obvious; I tell her to meddle elsewhere. What delays my huli jing? I become more appetizing. I plate myself in sorghum-soaked rice and boiled pork intestine and sweet rose jam. We root and root. My patience runs thin. Will I perform a trick? I present him with a knife made for slitting and gutting. My dear boy, he says, I know what you want. He kisses my thigh; his whiskers scratch. The intimation of incisors lives behind soft lips and gums. My blood is all amok. Please devour me, I cry, this game is torture and I must be consumed. Silly boy, I cannot give you what you want, my huli jing tells me. For hunger is desire and I am still very, very hungry.

Elaine Hsieh Chou was a Rona Jaffe Graduate Fellow at New York University. She is an alumna of the Tin House Summer Workshop 2018 and co-curator of the Sweet & Sour Readings in Chinatown, Manhattan. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Cease Cows, The Normal School and Guernica. You can find more at www.elainehsiehchou.com.

Elaine Hsieh Chou was a Rona Jaffe Graduate Fellow at New York University. She is an alumna of the Tin House Summer Workshop 2018 and co-curator of the Sweet & Sour Readings in Chinatown, Manhattan. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Cease Cows, The Normal School and Guernica. You can find more at www.elainehsiehchou.com.