Self-Portrait as Static Noise ~ a poem by Tanya Sangpun Thamkruphat

Photo by Ron Guest. (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

I was told I was born from a big bang but I don’t remember the boom. I was told I come from the
afterglow, in all of its galactic glory, which lingers lonely somewhere in space and time like
motes dancing alone in the first morning rays. You might have seen me scurrying like a black ant
across the expansive analog sands chasing and scavenging for remnants of my life before real
remembrance. I want to find it. I want to keep it alive. I want it safe and sound. Do you hear
that? Do you hear the frenzy of my old bones clicking and clacking in my heavy, graphite heeled
shoes pounding, pounding, pounding against the pavement as I run keeping up with the new age
while searching for me, myself, and I. I am trying to find a sense of self direction but for now I’ll
follow the north star until I am home.

Tanya Sangpun Thamkruphat is a Thai-Vietnamese American poet and essayist. She is the author of the poetry chapbooks, Em(body)ment of Wonder (Raine Publishing, 2021) and It Wasn’t a Dream (Fahmidan Publishing & Co., 2022). Her writing appears in The Orange County Register, Button PoetryHoney Literary, The Cincinnati ReviewRio Grande Review, and elsewhere. She’s a 2023 Kenyon Review alumn. Currently, she lives with her feline overlord and partner in Southern California. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram at @madamewritelyso.


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