Moments frozen in gelatin;
only tangible proof that you
were once here, only tangible
proof that you were once me
the rest are vague memories
images, sounds and feelings.
Falling into a pond looking at a flower,
falling on your knees looking up at the
vastness of the Northern Avenue sky,
eating instant noodles on the bed during
renovation, white dust floating through the
air white tissue floating just before your
parents hit each other in front of you, red
burning handprint on your cheek, don’t
remember who when teacher asked, crying
from shame, crying from anger, crying just
because, hitting my brother’s head on the
floor, smashing a window, being bored
at the computer.
You live inside heads, uniquely
in each, father’s, mother’s, mine
and others’, frolicking from mind to
mind, with your then-golden hair,
outstretched tongue, holding a broom
Two times your size your voice
already lost under the dust of time. Now
your footsteps become swirls of ink and
black pixels on a white white screen.
