Photography by Chiaki Chng
i fold inwards
onto myself
& bend backwards
to face what’s behind
or is it now in front?
or inside?
i don’t know which way’s north
a soft roundness
ripp(l)ed by fragility
exposed behind closed doors
my intestines twist
a double helix
i don’t know which way’s north
a reluctant phone call
a problem solver on the other
end
cinched anger
& a 1970s compass
i don’t know which way’s north
grief folds inwards
onto itself
like learning how to tie a tie
over
behind
in front
through
& down
even still
i don’t know which way’s north