What I find most compelling about “Hateno Village” is how it nods to the Legend of Zelda series’ past without totally bowing to it. Take, for instance, the way the song incorporates the first four notes from the beginning of the “House” music from Ocarina of Time; “Hateno” sprinkles the familiar notes in at around 1:13 like a light seasoning, subtly cuing the longtime Zelda fan to feel at home in the new environment. Essentially, the game creates nostalgia for a place the player’s never been before.

Directional pad, three buttons,
that’s all it was & it was too much
for a game where all there is
is run, run, jump, run, run
crouch & charge & run.

The third thing the guild really, really cares about is if anyone does anything nice for me, specifically. The guild really, really cares about this because I’m a girl.

Someone out there,
a considerable length away
from this tomb’s miraculous
demise, could do
something as well, anything.

the crowd stands to honor fallen heroes
brought to you by RAYTHEON, guiding
missiles to the heart since 1948
you hear that thump, you know you’re alive

There is no beautiful way to tell you I’m depressed. Faced with so many compounding
horrors, my body sets to slow fade, a phantom. I’ve been losing my days running headlong

Your hair has grown too long after your year asleep. So you take the knife at your hip, the one with the wet bandana tied around the hilt, and begin to slice the excess length of tangled hair.

I can’t help but hear “Aerith’s Theme” from Final Fantasy VII the way I hear “My Heart Will Go On” from Titanic. Both are 1997 babies. Both elegize a young, poor, plucky, orphaned savior. Both build to swollen, gushy climaxes.

When your world is ruled by another,
you are forced to perform, to spit,
to jump,
to be cruel when all you want is to be beautiful.

When my mother came to take us to the battered women’s shelter, she brought with her a copy of Zombies Ate My Neighbors for the Sega Genesis. My brother and I sat in the principal’s office. We were pulled out of class around eleven. The principal came to our respective classrooms and ushered us into his office. When we stepped inside, my mom was already there, her eyes looking very old in the clinically bright lighting. I was seven and my brother was five.

It’s a chore parsing whispers, so tiring to listen.
To abandon my ghasts on sea air would be harm;
ceding ash to dry wind, gunpowder to lightning.