we were heartbeats together
we share the blood
we whispered sweet words through webbed skin
on our hands;
i bided my time, watched you outgrow your caul
but i’m frozen,
my cells divide, hazard lights–
suspended in time.
you surround, stifle, axphyxiate me
i slowly dissolve,
like i’m drowning, and then i disappear,
i won’t secede to
the agonal trappings of
your fleshy prison.
this blighted half-life; won’t you just
pull my hair
curl ‘round your finger, ‘cause i like it
just like that.
what would happen if i burst out?
i would just
strip off your mantle and take it,
shred your skin.
you see, dear sister, you already forget–
I have teeth
* This piece can be read as two separate poems, or as one whole.
Keshe Chow is a Malaysian-born Chinese Australian veterinarian living in Melbourne with three humans and two cats. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Analogies and Allegories Literary Magazine, Maudlin House, Cross & Crow Keys, and Wrongdoing Magazine. In 2020 she won the Perito Prize and her short story was featured in their anthology.