Smearing sunscreen on your body,
I think of all the crevices I can’t reach.

If my fingers were small enough
to know the insides of your ears…!

I push my thumbs into the divots of
your lower back as if you’re made of clay,

ready to shape into my small neighborhood.
Around us the bees are making feast.

I know there is nothing to be afraid of;
even in the sea I can tell your sweat from saltwater.

Listen, lover—we have found each other
young, and now we’ll never know

what it’s like to look a strange beast
in the eyes and want to run.

Stacey Yu (she/her) is a writer and reviewer based in San Francisco. She once memorized 400 digits of pi, for which she won an apple pie.

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