when you left, your hair clogged
the sink again. it rises with
the water, seaweed lungs breathing
past every lover’s stain, yet planted
into grime. my hands fear
uprooting them, a reminder
of my grass blade heart
soon, the hair will swim
beyond the sink. the tap
will stop looking
like your neck. i will be the drain
choking you down. i won’t ask
for a bigger bowl. i
won’t ask fishes to come back.
Min Lim is a junior from Cendana College reading History. Her poems have been featured in Eunoia Review, and are forthcoming in OF ZOOS and SingPoWriMo 2016. Her works can be found on http://minlim.com
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