Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Feminist Studies 47, no. 2. © 2021 by Feminist Studies, Inc. 279 A Report on Underage Prostitutes Zhai Yongming Translated by Petrus Liu and Lisa Rofel An underage prostitute has been called a pretty babe again She wears a scanty, floral-patterned lace dress Her long legs titillate Her mother is even more beautiful (than she) They appear like sisters, “one looks like an antelope...” All the men like babes like her Babes like facing the camera But the underage prostitute I saw was not like this She was only 12, skinny, and she wore filthy clothes You could fit a whole world in her eyes But they had no room for a single tear Her father is a peasant, still young But his hair already white For three months her father Searched everywhere for her His lost baby The underage prostitute’s three months Nearly one hundred days Three hundred men Not a simple number She doesn’t understand why So many old, ugly, filthy men 280 Zhai Yongming Want to climb on top of her belly She doesn’t understand how these things come about The only thing she knows is that her body becomes light and empty Certain things taken from it She is seen as a beauty without a brain She probably doesn’t know anything She counts only during the night Her count reaches over three hundred Figures with no names no surnames no addresses Together they are called customers The numbers like ancient symbols inside a tomb Disappeared before the sun comes up Reading the newspaper I think: I cannot write a poem about this I cannot change poetry into that I cannot chew the poem into a straightforward cackling, boom bang sound I cannot hammer the words into pieces the teeth gnaw on Those illnesses those operations Those numbers added to her age, twelve years old Poetry, bandage, photograph, memory Damaged my eyeballs (The zone in the retina where light and obscurity make contact/meet) Makes all too clear: it’s no use Injuries no one cares about Just some numbers you see every day; but they are Creating a lifetime of misery for some Only a part of her is in the news photo A twelve-year-old standing together with other girls You can’t tell she’s missing an ovary It’s only a news item Each day our eyes process numerous pieces of information They control our delights as consumers They skim news stories like this without much thought Information overload, hotlines, and the international media An enormous sackcloth erasing one person’s humble wounds from view Zhai Yongming 281 We just gaze It gets rolled and stuffed into a black iron trash can...