when i was six

my mother had me exorcised.

in her belly i was restless

turning and writhing like a shedding snake

for nine months she did not sleep

only moaned and vomited

i leeched the nutrients from her blood

until she was pale and skinny

bloated and polluted

with my vigour

the delivery was easy

i was eager to be expelled

freed from my amniotic prison

the dearth of the umbilical cord

by the time teeth erupted in my mouth

i was sinking my incisors in everything

my mother brought me bowls upon bowls

of rice, eggs, chicken, fresh fruit

to satiate my nascent thirst

one peaceful afternoon

i bite into an apple slice

and sucked it dry

then squealed with delight

when it crumbled in my mouth like ash

my aunties whispered 'mó guî'.

demon.

they called the village wu-shaman.

just like the folk stories

he wore brown bearskin

and a mask with four golden eyes.

but from the side

i peeked a tag that read 'made in china'.

he sat me down, chanted ancient spells,

shook my shoulders, squeezed my temples,

whispered

then shouted

lifting his palms to the sky

my mum and aunties huddled in the corners

holding one another, praying

finally a hot air escaped my mouth

a deep, low, guttural vibration

the shaman grasped the air

pulled out a curved dagger

and stabbed the invisible spirit

the women cried and cheered and kissed me

that night i could not eat a thing

i did not have the heart to tell them

that five minutes before the shaman arrived

i was crouched under the stairs

chugging a can of pepsi i stole from the fridge

and that the demon was a delayed burp

so exquisitely horrid

it would have my classmates exploding with laughter