Self-Portrait as a Siphonophore by Conan Tan

"My body less a body and more the living history of water."

CONAN TAN
Self-Portrait as a Siphonophore


In my next life, I want to be a siphonophore.
Not a small creature by any means but a string
of queer lights. My body
less a body and more the living history of water.
Time passing through me like ghost
blue ripples. Big concepts, big joy, isn’t it?
The real terminology is less
romantic. Scientists would deem me a collection
of working parts. I prefer to think of the siphonophore
as chain and chiaroscuro. An expanse of brushstrokes.
Meaning I’ll have been touched
at least once. I’m trying to transparent
my shame into something beautiful. A depression
worthy of the Louvre. Vermeer deconstructed light
down to its photons and I can’t even
look the mirror in the eye. Four years of therapy
and every session ends with Julian thanking me
for being open, for being. For having
loosened this grief into a galaxy. I deserve
some gold stars by now, I say, and he smiles, grins even, almost
like a friend would. I wonder if the siphonophore
has friends, if it ever feels tired
at its own length. Its colonial weight and constellation.
All the visibility. I wonder if there’s anything
more tired than thinking of the self as fear and feminine
ache. That same night I empty
into bed and dream. I could be more
than the sum of my parts.

First published in Salt Hill, Issue 53, September 2025.