Photo by Sonika Agarwal on Unsplash
today I learned
the heart is 73 percent water
now I understand why
life is constant confusion
longing
we are endless pours of existence
overflowing
the cup of this body
tides move through our veins
feelings-- painted turtles
submerged
I’ve tired of talking about love
instead-- I will now speak only of water
I will call you a sunfish
golden flash
deep in the blue lake of my heart
dream you a birch forest
breathless-- silent
under a fresh snowfall of affection
I will be a humid summer sky
kissing your face and neck
I can’t promise you love—
no, my tear drop
I can only offer
mist rising from a morning pond
dew on one leaf of mint
a warm rain
Nicole Callräm (she/her/她) is a nomadic bureaucrat whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in Five South, The Night Heron Barks, Allium, and Kissing Dynamite. She is a poetry editor for ASPZ: A Shanghai Poetry Zine. She identifies as queer and is hopelessly addicted to soup dumplings. You can find Nicole atop a ride-share bike on the streets of Shanghai or at @YiminNicole.