chaos theory

somewhere
a bat flaps its wings and
you
storm into my life

this is how we bloomed, in the distance strung by RNA
behind locked doors and masked smiles
you call me before we sleep
my face so close to the phone when i blink my lashes sweep the screen
and you fight to be heard over my heartbeat, a voice
so soft that it makes me want to fall
(again)
into a dream about the sage rural town
where we spend the days making smiles and the nights love
and you are never far enough for me to miss your laugh

but then i was afraid
the light would fall asymmetrically and you would hate
trees that grew enough to give shade
maybe you were scared i would let go of your hand
in library aisles where the words eat
you, like the beast inside your head
your voice on the phone too soft
for my hands to catch, i let it go
out into the cold draught
where we nurture the dying orchid

but somewhere
we manage to hold off june for a little longer
i roll your name off my tongue without fear of losing it
we watch foreign tv shows and dance on the three-point line
sing lyrics to songs we cannot name in the key of every goodbye we’ve heard

tell me the story again
the one where he spelled her teeth so loose
when her tongue asked him to stay they filled up her mouth
and there was blood and space and nothing to bite
tell me it will never happen to us
say it, even as you hold
the pliers behind your back

leave this behind
let the wind carry you away
it will stop raining here
someday

silence

you call me on the phone
crying, because you do not think you are a good person
they said we could be anything but we chose to be silent
and it is so beautiful to be alive
but only until a man is just a body
until our taped lips kiss the chest motionless
until teeth grind the tongue into a stone
upon which racism sharpens its blades

the silence
that means
there is a grown man on his knees we cannot pray for
a grown man pleading for his mother we cannot save
sirens sounding more like warnings than rescues
somewhere there is a boy who kisses his mother goodnight
and the silence nurtures that same mouth
to one day spit bullets

in the morning the stillness gnaws like a guilty conscience
awaken from a veil of sleep so deep and
there is nothing left but to use our teeth and knives
cut through the layers like razorblades to skin
promise to push our voices up against the glass
and scream
until it breaks

man

silence, man’s favourite food for you
feeds you every time you call
eating more but becoming less
ride up the hem to let them see skin
draping over your ribcage
so you never forget where you came from
only a part of something so much more whole

man likes to see the top of your head
your wings his favourite punching bag
fingers leashed around your neck
pray your knees bruised

swallow
the words you want to speak
swallow
everything about him

smile, but don’t show too much teeth
dentist hands hunting for a cavity
filling you with sweet lies

waiting for him is still time spent with him
11pm, the first time you hear from him all day
man likes it when you wait
for him, but not for your first time

give, give, give
he asks your camera lens dirty

man loves it best when he pushes you off a cliff
so he can talk about saving you

overwritten

like how i mistake a scar for a bookmark to remind me
where we left off, a raised white line on my skin
with lips my fingers trip over every time i try to move on
no matter how many times it heals over
pry it open when i forget the colour of november
the warmth rushing to embrace my hands, like if you
hold water to thirst it will always thank you
even if today it is only blood, i think it cannot bleed this much
without you reminiscing too, even just a graze
then tomorrow, a wound i sing to sleep
refusing to close, not while there are still apologies
to be pulled out from my mouth
my tongue writhing to form another name
and i realise i have never cried before
and i no longer have a right to
so let me bring a knife to this once more
this time, tell me how it ends
about rain that fell like there was a fire to be put out
too passionate for the leaf
who had only ever known the caress of dew
let it heal an exit wound
beneath where my pendant hangs
and when this body is finally handed off to another
when he sings songs into my collarbone hollow
and asks about it
call it just another chapter

there is another to overwrite this story now
at a horizon on the other side
with the sunrise we never got to see
give it to her to hold
and with it your good mornings
tell her not to be afraid
to jump into the ocean
because i think you are ready
and i think you will catch her this time

falling is a circle

suppose you had chosen to dive
headfirst into the vacuum
made of his silence
cushioning the fall with
all the reasons you love yourself
until he decides to take them
for himself
his promises never staying long enough for a full moon
whittling away your words
dragging your voice through the water
leaving you empty-handed, weighing like the morning after
a vivid dream
him kissing you, you waking up
melting honey in your mouth
so you become too afraid to turn off the lamp
fill every hollow with light, down to your collarbones
watch sunsets become sunrises
over and over
there are things you still can’t talk about
like the daddy issues you don’t know you have
how you are still waiting to be saved
the hospital doors open
but it is him
you hold out for

hands

it begins with a beat
of wings, a creature who does not have hands
the flutter coughed across oceans
punched and caught into countries
until the whole world is gasping for air

so then they skewer words into the skin i wear
passed down from my ancestors
i have never been more aware
of the way my hands reflect the colour of the sun
& how much better they would look covered in white gloves
because even in broad daylight the pedestrian mall walks
like a backend alley
all clenched fists and middle fingers

instead of letting you squeeze my hands
i stay home & run them under hot water for 20 seconds
i have never been more afraid
of letting my fingers reach for things
of touching, & being touched
how we try so hard to find hands that won’t hurt each other
your alcoholed palms against my cheeks all ragged
like his last breaths in the ICU, but

somewhere in the future it is 2019 again
i laugh because your voice is too soft
to hear in the crowd
you grab my hand to lead me through
& i have never breathed so easy

finding the light switch

when they turn off the light you are still small
& your arms are too short to find the switch

you take walks but never cross because
on the other side there is a bus shelter
that someone’s smashed & the last time he saw
you were just an infant

even when your cheekbones are mirror enough to be his
in his eyes you will always be a child

when the stranger asks why you are sad
you pull from your spine all the rocks you have
saved to fill the chasm until the room is heavy
enough to drown out your mother’s screams
your face wet with your sister’s memories
holding their breaths to blow out the birthday candles
& with it, the church that has bruised your knees

so of course when they say you have his eyes
a part of you is terrified

when your arms finally grow enough to reach the wall
it is a miracle they stretch for in the doctor’s office
white-coat mouth opening to spill a switch
blade that slices the sun to set

at night you wake up
with a cry that’s siren enough to need saving
& for a moment the light is so blinding
you can’t help but laugh

red flag

tell me how this is fair
a forgotten crop during harvest season
the only one to still care after
everyone has gone home
call her the last one standing & it will seem like
it was meant to be like this not
out of abandonment because
i loved your sunsets
enough to forget
the night we folded into immediately after
a javelin thrown into dreams
running off fragmented sleep
for hours and hours
until i wake up with you
against the palm of my hand like an answer
scribbled before a test
where every bubble i fill tastes like caramel
i gorge on sugar until my throat is too sore
to swallow
& you give me a pop song to empty my mouth into
don’t you think we break because
we are addicted to watching our hands rebuild?
drown this in the colour
of a father giving his daughter away on her wedding day
so that i may not see the red flag in your hand
fade to white in mine

red

shanghai, two weeks before chinese new year, and the city is red

like the lanterns hanging from the ceiling
a paper cut
in to “fu”, as in prosperity, fortune, good luck
says your aunt, chasing a red envelope into your palms
the pair you used to hold your grandfather’s hand in the hospital
one which would never tend to another rose
blossom, for which your mother was named
binding a chinese flag around your tongue
chewed through as you learnt how to use your teeth
sunk, into candied haw
lips coated sticky
drink
iced red tea to your mouth
returning home after more than a decade
drink
red wine to your mouth
cheeks exposed vermillion
riding the last line 1 metro of the night with him
the red string on your wrist jerked taut
his eyes wrapping around your body a tailored qipao, advancing
and firecrackers shouting in the distance
like gunshots
like bodies detonating during the occupation, japanese
painting the town red, painting it blood-
hush
look at how safe we are now
silhouettes nestled in the glow of the oriental pearl
a rocket to be launched
a city, ready for takeoff

pearl of asia

the city wakes without pressing snooze
before heat closes in like a fist

a man brushing dust from his
shoes, that settles
no matter how little he walks
the boy, hands the size of a toy car remote
gripping the handlebars of a motorbike for one
two siblings stacked behind him

and i learn
an elderly beggar
eyes punched full of a shame that trickles
down her face, binds shut her lips
wordlessly pleading for survival
is humanity stripped down to its most raw

but still, how the sun remembers
to fondle angkor wat on its way to the sky
paints a strip of fire the width of one grace
along the horizon each morning

if the lotuses can make the choice
over and over
to build a home in this land
if i can cross the road with my eyes closed
reach the other side safely
and the child who has never known her parents
can smile like the rich men haven’t in years
i think
perhaps there is an oyster here after all