One

pot of gold, poisoned apple, beanstalk.
an unread message.

how this kiss
feels like the first.

the birth of a stickman.
how we begin.

the line of an axis, where you and I
intersect at the point of origin.

a candle in a cupcake.
a signature signal to leave some party

and discover the favourite number
of our clumsy limbs.

your island on my speed dial.
365, 24, 60,

the crocodile has time in its belly
but it’s aching to bite.

your name is ticking in my throat
to a phone call I wait for every night.

— Liyana Dizzy, 21

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