silk / 一絲 by Jasmine Gui
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.
Jasmine Gui is a Singaporean-born interdisciplinary artist who lives and works in Tkaronto. Her work is grounded in interdisciplinary grassroots communities, and explores intersectional histories, counter-archivals, translations, traversals, and grief. She is the author of two chapbooks, If A Carp Dreams of The Milky Way (2019) and boke (2017).