Jill Chan
　

art gallery

words on paintings
the cursive waking
how the eye steadies
the hand steadies
the soul
your words
spoken they quietly run
　

Waking Up

You are afraid
that all you could do
is break
stems and cut
breath in between
beats on your palms
and words you've never
afforded to write
afraid they will wake
you up and leave

-both poems previously published at Foame

　
Watermark

I catch the lassitude
of the pen

(absolving uncrossed t's
and undotted i's)

aware of the hollow tube
and how air is essential to the flow

but keeping in mind the finality of ink,
I hesitate

where to begin?
perhaps with the time

you held my hand
in the dark

telling me how much
you wanted not to forget me

Instead, I hold the paper
to the light
　

Driving

Your left hand
on the gears
and your right
on the steering wheel.

Only last night
I was holding them
tight in mine,
a conguence
I've come to know.

Now
I watch
fascinated by
their independence.

When you stroked my hair,
what were you thinking?

-both poems previously published at Thunder Sandwich