scrambler logo

SCRAMBLER presents

03 | 02.2017

Home (Initial Findings)
by Franny Choi


  1. the apartment came with a table attached to the wall.
  2. the center point of my mother’s body.
  3. i sit in bed, clean laundry lotused around me.
  4. brother sister & me in the same room for hours, being, being.
  5. his sleep patterns, his weight, the smell of thin cotton against his back.
  6. a photograph of a yellow t-shirt sends me flying back 12 years to the suitcase dad heaved into the trunk, the milk jug crawling across the pavement.
  7. when logic jumped off the roof, my friends made a nest of the living room.
  8. sunlight on brick rooftops saying, this is where you live now.
  9. a burnt hole, a pressed eyelid’s starburst, red to green.
  10. i filled the room with smoke, seeped out bottom corner of the window.
  11. three mattresses side by side on the floor, a pink quilt, a soft heap of body.
  12. i never learned my grandmother’s name.

Return to Franny Choi's featured page

Return to index of featured writers

Independent publisher since 2003

Scrambler Books | available & forthcoming print titles
Intervalo | selección y traducciones de João Guerreiro y María Mercromina
Archives | online content from the Scrambler e-zine (2007-2015)
About | our story

Follow us on Twitter