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By Ivi Hua


last night i dreamt of you &     woke   up weeping

    constellation struck    restless.

glistening.    split-tongued, i know no other language 

than love, & with the low tide, i shed it,   snakeskin reborne.

last night i drowned    &     woke up   withered,

    this saltwater ocean    a blade     to my chest,

my hands scrabbling    for just a little more     life.

    after you left,         hollow     i     stayed. 



how must i reconcile    with myself?     what beauty

    may i steal,     rip away from     the stars?

before she     slashed the sky     apart,      a glissando of 

    violent light,         my mother gave me only

a taste of yearning,     a taste of aching.

last night i     dreamt of you,       cocooned in silk. 

you couldn’t leave    trapped in metamorphosis.



i want my nails     to erupt from their beds,

    become blades        made for slaughter.

my veins    my arteries empty, i would split this skin,

    dilute my joy. let my lungs become    liquid luck

before the sky darkens.     change has ripped my heart out

    & i will not remember the agony.

we were butterflies in glass     bottles, &     

            last night i dreamt of you taking to the air,     

leaving it all behind.

Previously published in [sub]liminal mag

Ivi Hua is an Asian-American writer, dreamer, & poet, with works published/forthcoming in Juven, Polyphony Lit, & the Aurora Journal among others. A Best of the Net nominee & cofounder of Young Poets Workshops, she believes in the unifying power of writing. You can find her @livia.writes.stories on Instagram.

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