Silhouette: A Dance by Addie Tsai

Past
the scrim
Wouldn't
see
bent
back
If
our eyes
setting
sun
our
backs
could
see
Wouldn't
see
arched
swans
Through
milk
star's
mouth
snapping
perch
Through
cutouts
sewn
to its own
from
murky waters
the onion
skin
black
hole
Curved
towards each
our scrap
metal
Our
wrists
our bodies
a wasteland
cut
from
blacked
out
branches
on trees