today I learned
the heart is 73 percent water

now I understand why
life is constant confusion
longing

we are endless pours of existence
overflowing
the cup of this body

tides move through our veins
feelings-- painted turtles
submerged

I’ve tired of talking about love
instead-- I will now speak only of water

I will call you a sunfish
golden flash
deep in the blue lake of my heart

dream you a birch forest
breathless-- silent
under a fresh snowfall of affection

I will be a humid summer sky
kissing your face and neck

I can’t promise you love—

no, my tear drop

I can only offer
mist rising from a morning pond
dew on one leaf of mint
a warm rain

Nicole Callräm (she/her/她) is a nomadic bureaucrat whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in Five South, The Night Heron Barks, Allium, and Kissing Dynamite. She is a poetry editor for ASPZ: A Shanghai Poetry Zine. She identifies as queer and is hopelessly addicted to soup dumplings. You can find Nicole atop a ride-share bike on the streets of Shanghai or at @YiminNicole.