Written by Callie Cheng


I remember the way you blew some,
Ten thousand clouds of blueberry opium:

One, you swiveled,
Rolled into your brains,
Till blue you bled,
And unfold your refrain.

Then two as you breathed,
Sprang a watercolor koi,
Who cascaded and writhed,
In a billow of drunken poise.

Three, that blue smoke,
Should crinkle me too,
As my fire you stoke,
With that sprinkle of blue.

Four, your brushstrokes,
Dampened my taste,
On a mouthful I choked,
My mind now a waste,

I hope you know,
That five, her fins,
They stained me so,
Of us, of blue, our sins.

Six, you painted me,
Put a smile on my face,
So that I couldn’t see,
The koi swam upstream life’s pace.

Seven, I rode,
That koi too far up,
Lost track of my road,
Dried the dreams in my cup.

But like clouds they came,
Eight, they rolled away too,
And I forgot then your name,
And your sickening dream blue.

Nine, I still ride that koi,
Down her watercolor stream,
But this time’s for joy,
Not to wallow in false dreams,

But to make dreams in my real,
Ten, forget you, and now heal.