the aftermath of us

in the shadow of the sharp-toothed moon,
i dip my fingers into the hollow of your collarbone.
restless, we breathe ourselves into the dust
gliding in the sunlight. how beautiful are the
dancers with their tendons cut, muscle melting into bone.

you ask me for a prayer and i give you
the dark brown of your eyes. in another dream
we walk side by side, eyes glistening like suns,
but in this one, my skin only knows how to hide blossoms
beneath the surface, lilacs trapped under a shield of ice.
there are only two tragedies in this world
& we know them both all too well.

but here your dark eyes are turning golden,
amber like a hawk’s. i sweep the sky and lay the fragments
at your feet: a glistening shard of star, a meteor dusted
into shimmer. i ask for an answer and all i get
is your bruised skin hurting against my teeth.
this is what you wanted, right? the ink
from my hair already swirling down the kitchen sink.

Vicki Lin (林诺曦) is an aspiring Chinese American poet and writer born in New York. She currently lives in Florida and is a junior at Bell High School along with her twin sister. She enjoys drinking tea and having educational conversations, when she’s not reading and writing. Vicki is a participant in The Kenyon Review Writers Workshop and Polyphony Lit’s editor course. She has won Keys from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and looks forward to having more accomplishments.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.