Woman in the kitchen, rats in dichotomy
On her sleepy entrance in a night of dreams
Beaten awake by cold, lungs like grandma’s bosom
Light poles in a bedroom
Over bedridden darkness
So much care, she gives
Loses her name in the call
Hands deep in black
Eyes become a night
For shoelaces, hold walk
Into a single shoe where
Crawling leeches maraud as brain cells
Woman lost in the wake
Head ablaze from grainy dream
Corpse on the move; this bike trip will be very long.
Christina Pan's short stories and poetry appear or are forthcoming in Trouvaille Review, Lumiere Review, and Ember. She currently lives in New York City.