Addie Tsai

aperture

how i wanted to trap the sun

set sucked into the mouth

of my camera and spit it out

saliva onto a slide

the glass eye dangling

all i could find were syringes needling

the grass & the paws of midnight

a kitten i tried to save once

while i waited for men to finish

with my mother pricking to the point of wept-ing

i spooned a cactus so hard the darts bled through

the skin whether flesh or light

remains uncontainable

how suitable, you the buoy, your arms like silver fins
from Helena Deland’s “Swimmer”

a shadow of you that sweetens somewhere on a subconscious timeline holds the shape of the sea or maybe it’s because when you first broke my heart i danced in my room to a song called swimmer the delicate voice of a someone soft a harp swirling over the rush of the tide stay i said i sang i swished i slept in so long i succumbed but oh damn i forgot that one answer to the word stay is to surrender to the sinking i was so busy skating to the saccharine sweetness that i didn’t see that other you snake i mean sneak in until i slipped on your sleeve floating on the sand