The sun disappears in the horizon the way a
mango slice
slips behind the back of my tongue
yellow overflows me
the way an egg yolk spreads across
the frying pan
the smell of breakfast, spreadsheets, ink
stains and then the clock becomes a
calculator seamlessly you
surrender into some light fold of a caress
between napkins
and soaking in warm tap water as tea
on a tepid morning
fresh as a twisted lemon slice
you turn to adjust to an absence
within you
writhing like a fish out of water
its scales glistening on the shore
catching the light the way
the whites of your yes at night
catch the moonlight
                                                                                    (alerting precaution like a light tower)
the way mother of pearl gleams in
lacquer at night
its arresting beauty holds us immobile
our liquid core stiffening slowly

Emerald Liu (she/her) is a Sino-Belgian writer whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in Verses Magazine, Superfroot, Drawing Matter, Poetry Pacific, and many more. She is currently the poetry + prose editor at Asians In The Arts.