by Elena Wu
ài yɑ, I gasped
in a foreign language
he laughed, taking off my socks
toes without nail polish, he kissed
the sweat beads on my back
without a photographer
a woman in white dress
a man in linen suit
held the turquoise river
and their breath
fit bodies running shirtless
under the sun poured molten gold
made me stare, ài yɑ
he left before we wrinkle
Elena Wu (she/her) is a recent MFA Writing graduate from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Her poems and fiction have appeared in Eunoia Review, The Orange Rose, and Angel City Review. Born in Nanjing, she is about to move to Rhode Island to pursue a PhD in English. Find her on Instagram:@i_love_626. She writes a newsletter about her dating life and life in general on Substack:@draco0304.
This poem previously appeared in Eunoia Review.