And Yet Eyes Resemble Oysters
‘The world of dew
is the world of dew.
And yet, and yet—’
And yet eyes resemble oysters, pupils conjuring pearls, lids
conjuring shells. Seagulls are perched on my mother’s lashes.
She peels back her skin to reveal a room. There I am, in a
cheongsam far too large for my straight child body, trapped
in a cloud of carnations. I raise hand and eye to the moon.
My sleeve falls to expose the white arm. Which poem is this?
I recited it in kindergarten. The seagull is not a symbol. Are
tea leaves speeches? What about the burn the water gave me
when it tipped over? It spilled onto my entire forearm, and
part of my breast.
soft snow femur bone
microwaved tesco dumplings
winter migrant dreams
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