Circulating the infinity.
Your familiar tone
I mirror the warmth.
Through a spider web across the sea,
That is how our breath
Sinks into the big white noise:
Thin, frail, in permanent repair.
Waiting is longing.
You radiate through the winter thickness.
I hide behind a poster of surreal heat.
Your nose tip taps on my eyebrows gently as if touching invisible foams.
Longing is remembering.
Into a paper dragonfly.
Inert atmosphere, minimal wind.
I am incapable of making a sound,
Inhaling like a broken jellyfish.
Remembering is reimagining.
I project your hair with reduced sheen,
White strands flow among the myrtles at the balcony. You freeze the petals in an old smart phone,
Send it to me
In prompting immediacy.
You are the flowers, you are the petals.
You are the continuum of morning rays.
You tell me.
I am the petals of the myrtles.
And I am the petals of your myrtles.
Grace Feng Fang Juan is a writer and filmmaker based in Melbourne. Actively engaged with the multilingual and trans-cultural space, she writes in Chinese and in English languages, exploring the in-between-ness and fluidity created by her diaspora experience through poetry, essays and arts reviews. She has written for the ABC and Peril Magazine.