Long Distance

photographs, like little time capsules

capture you, flesh and bone,

when we danced like eels on a cold night.

now you glitter on my phone screen

blue and cold,

beckoning me to

somewhere

where

in my starless city shines a pond

potioned with ambrosia

where I wet my lips every night

and empty my heart come morning.

distance grows ten limbs

and settles in the spaces between our fingers,

curling up cochlear

next to you—-

where you sleep on a dust cloud

that I call home.

I wonder,

if I tried just hard enough,

could I hear your eyelash float to the ground

from thousands of miles away?

my mornings, my nights

inverted

when time drowned in a frozen pond.

and I for you,

drink ambrosia

hoping you can taste it.

Words by Ayesham Khan

Photos by Arabella Chen