I Am A Condensation Of Them All

Averie Tiong

1. Dried forget-me-not from Valentine’s, pressed in a dusty book.
2. Home-cooked qīng hóng luó bo tāng¹, turned cold.
3. Baby pillow that my mum keeps on her bed, unused.
4. Heart-shaped box from Daiso from my father, with a side gift of a police call.
5. Embellished cross my grandma wears around her neck, promised to me when her time comes.

i am a lonely traveller, a wandering cloud
caught in a stalemate between life and death
floating in the waves that approach the golden sand
but never tide far enough to feel the splashes of children’s feet on my chest.

6. Vague gathering of mis-compelling demons.
7. Floating on the surface of water, above the dissipated sea foam of Ariel’s cold body.
8. Said book tucked away under my bed.
9. Blue sky collapsing as I sink into green algae waters.
10. Crying into the arms of my table-mate during class.

i am a meagre sapling, a common growing sprout
planted and rooted in loose reclaimed soil
fighting to stand tall amidst tropical thunderstorms
still struggling against flash floods that threaten to drown.

11. Abecedarian collection of pain.
12. Bottom of a deep, dark pit.
13. Confrontations at every corner turn made.
14. Death calls, yet enters without knocking.
15. Earth continues spinning.

i am a messy ball of blackness, no doubt,
but what else is there but to
wake the monsters, and shut them behind bars?
(whose blood-thirst still chases me, from fifty feet far.)

all that is left is
a white noise i make a friend,
and kiss gnarly lips good night.

¹ Cantonese Sweet Corn and Red Carrot Soup