NEW ZEALAND

chan_jt@yahoo.com

Astronomy

The sun 
dissolves me
in soluble
language.

The moon cools
my thoughts
until words
form again.

The moon borrows
its light from
the sun.

Hangover

My brain is doused
after an exam,
ashes of regret
born out of the hot
and cold of indecision.

The sword of failure
hangs above me.

Answers are never exact.

Night Colours

I close my eyes,
pretend to be blind.

Blood red bass,
lightning blue violin,
golden acoustic strums

soothes.

A balm

so I can hear stars
arrange themselves
in the night.

Living

Tasting you is freedom
to walk in your fluid
imagination, to fly against
gravity of doubt, to touch
the faint scent of your skin.

Living for you is dying
with every particle
of burning ash in your
hair, with fire everywhere
I turn.

Suspicion

When veins in my hand
travel to their own
destinations, the scar
on your face is
invisible as your
fingerprints on mine.

The crooked smile is
more crooked.

Nails are weapons.

© All Copyright, 2000, Jill Chan. 
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.