Wrangled skyline.
The aurora after an electrical storm.
Emerald eves. Sleepless. Poemless.
One-fourth of a fragmented heart.
I return to you bent.

This desire, this fuel, this push & pull,
this off & on.
Come an inch, a millimeter,
back me up against an elevator
that transports to the crux of the moon.

I seek light—you ooze stellar energy.
Warm me from the roots of my hair
to the tip of my pinkie.
Put your hands on me. Down there.
Put the sun inside me. Up here.

Gravitate nearer, generate heat.
Kiss me the way Niulang kissed Zhinü,
kiss me until the city restores power,
kiss me from Kowloon to Causeway Bay,
kiss me until the streetlamps flicker in Tsim Sha Tsui.

Our visage against the twinkling harbor.
Only in a fantasy are we this bronze & beautiful,
this fragile & faraway.
No roaring winds or clanging gongs on the dock.
I mourn the boats that come & go,
vanishing overnight.