Jackie Chou


Your breath awakens me
to an isle of swaying palms
and loosed ankles.
You dance in the shadows
of crisp-winged butterflies,
auspicious like a yellow kitten,
prodding your ideologies into my head,
your brown hair tousled in the breeze,
ambition glowing in your pupils.
Your musical notes cross my stave,
your fingers bent at the right angles,
holding chopsticks with dexterity,
in night markets of neon boulevards,
where omelets are flipped and mice thrive,
your eyes locking with mine,
in our shared landscape.