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Silk / 一絲

Silk / 一絲

When day falls dirty into palms
I dream of you 
at the overhang of sky, 
old sun tangled in my hair.

My exhale cocoons in the window.
I confess to the candle
alight at your shoulder.

Between language I can’t and language you don’t
(speak)
how do we listen?

I come to a still body of water by the way,
watch the words
unravel into threads:

you might have said goodnight.

Just before sleep I hear you
—rattling—against the ends;

my tongue will not surface.

Text by Jasmine Gui
Images by Lucy Lu | lucylu.ca | @lucyluphoto

This entry was posted in: Portfolio

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jaziimun is an interdisciplinary artist who works in text, paper arts and tea. She is also an arts programmer, and a ceramic hobbyist. She is also a proud bun mom.

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