in my mind, a gallery
of windows, sun melting
across glass. i track

differences: hair grown
past your ear, fingertips heavier
on shoulder blades. to share

moments apart, i beg
to trade geographies, scavenge
for details to keep.

my hands recall your body:
an extra scar on your forearm, the peeling
of skin from another sun. yet

there is too much to say, and so i leave
it to rain, light condensed
on windowpanes.

 

teo xiao ting is a year three psychology major from elm college. her poems have been published in anthologies such as This Is Not A Safety Barrier and SingPoWriMo (2015). she can be reached at teo.xiaoting@gmail.com, or baited by plants and tea.

 

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