As I wrote,
‘i knew only juniper in the sunlit leaves as you peer through the hole in the cinders while your coldheart gaze to the moon speaks tomes to me’,
I meant Pinot Noir,
and a monolith laid bare in the alleyway, finally stairwell, same della Robbia darkness, tear letters, the tangent fire, no refrigerator, and out here in left-turn lane it matters. I just remembered, the Édith Piaf rooms you turned a salon, the barium meal I sipped two thousand three hundred and fifty-nine nautical miles away, when the perennials were steeped, and when I plateaued on the high table. I confess, the aubergine plots were barren and the conifers unshaken. These poster charts later, your silhouette hid my alabaster heart of the Arctic fox in a humidor in Victoria. I said again, that I found nothing frozen on the steeple on the renaissance ceiling of Ash Wednesday.
Now you lie as a Staunton piece abstract on the black square D8.
I have already met ice, the hailstorm of your summer.
Melquíades took my place on the sands of our beaches.
Where’s the seahorse pin I gave you last August?
The last August of youth, your evergreen Spring.
Iain Lim Jun Rui is a Mass Communications diploma graduate from Ngee Ann Polytechnic and an aspiring poet and filmmaker. He is a winner of the Love Poetry Competition (piece forthcoming in Love at the Gallery anthology) and finalist in the National Poetry Competition 2017 organised by Poetry Festival Singapore. He is published in the ASINGBOL anthology and SingPoWriMo 2016: The Anthology, and has upcoming works in SingPoWriMo 2017: The Anthology, The Utama Review and Twin Cities anthology.