after Jenny Qi

the point at which we swallow ourselves again & again
until negated, oceans of spacetime measured (in meters)
by a single blue vase. if rational: a gap. if linear: a reaching
we part to fill. crave nothing as preferred to emptiness.
undefined, inescapable, if not an end, i want an awakening.
shake the point from which i was born into reappearing.
take me back to the island on the lake with two daggers,
where the moons are blue. ice in my mouth: guide to outrun
this body. the way lines converge & diverge.
time at the end of the world, the sun an ellipse
on your forehead. how do i measure its curving in?
how do i hold you back?

Emma Zhang lives and writes in San Jose, California. Her work has been recognized by The Adroit Prizes and the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers as a National Best in Grade Winner, and appears in Peach Mag, Kissing Dynamite, Evocations Review, among others. She’s never quite mastered the yo-yo.