OLIVIA CHAN | CREATIVES
a dry crack
like the cork on the wall
a shy snack
is enough for the night.
they came monthly through the letterbox
“Sarah’s Success Story”
but each month piled on
like the wrappers of an obsession.
the monthly couldn’t come
(i lied in seventh grade)
a bit of an embarrassment
felt like a shame.
just a slice
repeatedly drilled in the mind
fixated yet undesired
wishing to leave it behind.
Of course persimmons aren’t trying to taste like apples or pears or a strange mix of the two, or like either of them. Being, tasting like...
We move as one, our bodies intertwine as we do a dance we’re all too familiar with. Your fingers wrap around my neck like a necklace,...
I leap along the sand in my salty, damp swimming costume. The beach is almost deserted and stretches longer than time. I am eleven years...
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