Poem written on the back of your palm

by Jessica Kim

                        and it still fits all the spaces our bodies have grown fond of.
            We still believe in quotidian gods who camouflage themselves
in our desk drawers full of postcards. Full of river water ripples

                        lapsing onto our ankles, the islands we have yet to conquer.
            We’re not looking for revolution but rather, a softened
streak of sunlight bouncing on water. Tongues unlearning

                        regret, instead parsing the springtime air into love songs.
            The earth can weigh our flesh on its moss-covered back,
our mid-afternoons dissolving into fairy lights draped across

                        our palms. Sunsets are always careful, like a god sculpting
            life out of dirt. We watch light fade into our bedroom,
into picture frames with our youth crystalized and lost in

                        imaginary carousels with horses and chariots in flight.
            Even our dreams are identical. When morning arrives,
we forget the words tattooed on our palms. We fly away

                        in opposite directions as the dawn splits us apart. Wonder
            if we will remember to mend the distance, to make two
servings of breakfast, to leave the back door unlocked

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