by Anna Yin
It is possible we met in another life
under the cold solstice moon,
and danced and danced madly…
It is possible we were too close to keep warm
to recall faces and the land of promise…
What has left since?
A dream haunts me…
my garden flowering with you
in every spring.
I never doubt all the possibilities,
the life before, the life after,
our wings joined together.
A path, my feet hesitant to follow it,
my eyes closed in…
leaves marks in these poems,
cold, outside,
hot, inside.
— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 2