mama’s eyes are milky chocolate
ringed in the grey of Snowy’s fur;
a white-turned-dirty grimy smudge
the well-worn marks of the loved.
mama’s eyes are pain-free, sting-free.
(i want to squeeze Snowy against my chest, but she’s at home on my bed mama says, “At rest”)
i reach out a pointed finger,
trace the hollows brimming
with salty pearls I try to catch-
they are splashing silver fish
that slip silently down my wrist.
(they tickle a little and thread past my arm, a second set of shiny tubes)
i want to tell my mama
to shut those eyes,
catch those shines;
before they pelt my
heart and hurt.
(a hurt deep in my belly, it pulses like another heart, grips my bones wrenches me apart)
but i can’t-
i’m too tired-
back my own
(my bones are screaming my stomach flipping)
(i would hold my pain a hundred times over, if it would make my heart stronger)
want to leave either
(somethin’s pressin’ down on me)
Chloe Wong, 3P