Grace Feng Fang Juan reading ‘Wei Wei’

Du-du-du
Circulating the infinity.
Wei Wei
Your familiar tone
Swings upwards.
Wei Wei
I mirror the warmth.
Through a spider web across the sea,

I imagine
That is how our breath
Sinks into the big white noise:
Thin, frail, in permanent repair.

Du-du-du
Waiting is longing.
喂喂

You radiate through the winter thickness.

Wei-Wei
I hide behind a poster of surreal heat.
I imagine
Your nose tip taps on my eyebrows gently as if touching invisible foams.

Du-du-du
Longing is remembering.

喂喂

Silence.
Memory rewound
Into a paper dragonfly.
Inert atmosphere, minimal wind.

Wei Wei
I am incapable of making a sound,

Inhaling like a broken jellyfish.

Du-du-du
Remembering is reimagining.
Wei Wei
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.

喂喂

You are the flowers, you are the petals.

You are the continuum of morning rays.

You tell me.

Wei Wei

I am the petals of the myrtles.

And I am the petals of your myrtles.

I say.

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.