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Updated: Aug 6, 2021

women wearing masks, suit, long dress, car wreck, black and white, sensing the wild

I remember those feverish samba nights.

We were dancers then,

tapping our soles on floors that shone

with spilled drink, flinging

our longings into the night.

I cannot remember if the flame

caught first in your

crucible or mine.

The moment a cell divides, the world

sings for something new

and not so new


Keep one eye on the beauty,

you say, one

eye on the


Now that our fingernails grow long with worry

and the gravity

of love, speak

to me of the dance,

for there is only

the dance, nudge

my hips into the sway

of the wind, let my heart

lose its weight

in your hands

Text and photo by Junyi Chew

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