Willows look blue under spring highs. The whole of me bubbling through bark, half episode and half poem. You wrote my name five times. The sun slashed past catkins. The time turned three-weeks-since-we-last-heard-the-word-dyke. We sat on the steaming gravel, swiping through hibiscus hanbok. Act on what’s civil, say I do not. Let me learn. I watched your lips as your ribs grew restless. They tasted of pepper and Zero Cola. You pressed your wrist into mine & counted. We’re both gonna die, you said, or I think that’s what you said. I said I think, then I said magnolia, and then I said nevermind. You understood before I could forget. Teach me to stay. Teach me, before summer learns our names.
Chloe Lim is a poet and writer. Her work has been previously published in independent magazines, and she plans to study literature at university. When she is not writing, she spends her time learning new languages, listening to music.