Shiver – Julianne Chua

Here are the illuminated cities
at the center of my existence –
my capital, my monumental
structures for you to come
and spend the night in.

We bared our souls, architects
that grew to become city planners,
the urban redevelopment authority on love,
or something close to it anyway.

We made grand plans, didn’t we?
To trade summer reading lists –
Invisible Cities and Amis for Immortality,
Palefire, On The Road.

Written on your body souvenir, souvenir, que me veux-tu?

Siem Reap, the Angkor Wat:
To whisper our secrets into
the hollow of the tree only to realize that the hollow
whispers it back to us
madly ricocheting between stasis and flight.

There are no mountains in this city.
Summer here is perpetual,
relentlessly beating against
the backs of our eyes
like hummingbird wings.

We made plans,
plans for clean shaves, and
perfectly crisp, white shirts.
It’s a funny paradox though,
when you plan for a future
without a past.

I revisited an old city
I used to live in for a year and a half.
I was faced with new boulevards, new avenues, new landmarks.
I revisited an old city, but it is very much so a new one. Likewise, the
I that I am is no longer the I that was.
I found it all too familiar and it was starting to make me sad.
I found it all too familiar and it made me sad.
I found it all too familiar and the sadness too, grew too familiar so
I left this city for a new city to dazzle me, twirl me on its toes,

lightly.