Tag Archives: Kristine Ma

vignettes from shanghai

i. cold wind, boundless moon. jet-lagged, i am halfway across the world. it is quiet. miles and miles away, you are eating lunch. i wonder what you’re eating. here, everyone is asleep. pull your cream curtains aside, crane your neck … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

seven less clouds on the horizon

i. our shoes in varying hues of gray, each one lighter than the last. slate to smoke to silver to cloud. shoes melting into knee socks into skirt into skin, a light gray, the morning horizon after a storm. the … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment

sojourners

three weeks ago, we had passed birmingham and even with the windows lowered, the air blowing through was hot and dry, which turned into a pleasant coolness somewhere along the way from inkster to napier that could be seen as … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

beijing: cinnamon apple candles

i. forbidden city plastic fans spin. heat rolls off of the streets, tangible, shimmering. a girl and her friend lick at melting, overpriced popsicles. colored sun-umbrellas and bucket hats float above the beijing streets. washi tape and notebooks. red pillars … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment