with your head tilted slightly and your eyes closed
you listen to my independence declaration which you
have a suspicion lies anchored in your existence you wait
for the future hope someday to witness her when the time
comes reach for my hand and face the heat waves together

you
complete space roll up sometimes
wistful to complete anything yet
together with you
my thoughts touch the rim of the sun
you
run through my veins it feels
like a light itching as if something angular
makes its way through my perception to breathe
the mother triangle turns over her every face
restlessly she tries to bear the right version of me

from your mouth I arrived behind this desk the lamp
glows the November day bleak and you repeat with
self-destructive logic it’s not all that bad you balance
above the figure that once cast your body without
virulence I hear your words and think of history of
helpful anonymous romantics of death no longer
hidden from your life defied

– Patricia Qi