just a forlorn gaze
at my missing self
reminds me of our boudoir,
once we hermit crabs’ shell.
I imagine myself
growing from the dry light spots.
Why only dots in the third quadrant are erased?
Because they signify simple subtraction upon subtraction.
I'm beginning not to recognize anyone.
Brief venting followed by prolonged
forgetfulness.
Silence infuses the lips
like a voltaic seepage.
Isn't this already the second batch of survivors under your command?
They're just social media accomplices.
I dare not admit to
long become your
electronic ghost.
Faced with frequent requests, "To pretend you're still on the job”,
I dare not comply.
How is this not a form of counterfeiting?
Yet I dare not ask
if my departure weighs heavily.
Do you digest the same old appetite,
with the same portion, in the same mode?
I imagine myself
being nibbled and devoured
in the words of others.
I see your confusion:
If you bought a pair of shoes that
you'll never wear for the rest of your life,
why do you still open its box
from time to time?
Born in Beijing, China, Selina Zha is a teenage poet currently based in Boston, MA. As an Iowa Young Writer Studio alumna, her works have been previously recognized by Global Times, Social Justice Watcher, WILDsound Writing Festival, and more. She finds joy in editing poetry in both English and Chinese, delving into Menglongism Poetry, and examining poetic elements in cinematic contexts.