elsewhere By Amanda Wan


summer has a way of making
me feel small and hard.           everything
that hurts does so more           slowly.
somehow I become my migraine,
a bulbous pinch in my left eye.

in your end notes
you unravel under
an endless sky, limbs               reaching
upwards as the tree branches
that trace songs of circles on a
blue ceiling.

I tell everyone that birds
have hollow bones. when it is difficult to
breathe I imagine being held together
by air, some bizarre graft that remains
within kingdom animalia.

I shout my questions into a distant
kaleidoscope: if I slip into the green, will
the green have me back?
the colours of                          movement
are so much brighter than I

By Amanda Wan


Amanda Wan is a student of Honours English Literature and Asian Canadian & Asian Migration Studies (ACAM) at the University of British Columbia, which is located on the unceded territories of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam) peoples. She was raised by immigrant parents on unceded, ancestral Coast Salish lands, where she gratefully reads, writes, loves, and daydreams.”


One thought on “elsewhere By Amanda Wan

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s