i. axis
midair— flightless. strung up &
swept away, knotted & tied.
we, twin stars, coalescing & firing,
bodies translucent in the light;
our limbs, intertwined.
the darkness everywhere. everything.
vertebrae folded, joints smattered. fire
a living thing, spinning & tilted.
collected & spiraling about an axis.

ii. equator & meridian
intersection & lines, pulled across land & water,
stretched, growing. tongues shifting. your language
guttural, ancient. mine lost, stolen by some cold breeze.
& now- the winds bringing rain to my mouth,
soaking the spring soil. meeting in the middle,
splitting & dividing. my numb lips, your cold hands,
walls crumbling at our touch. we could make it if we tried.
if we ran until there was no air left, our origins forgotten,
nothing but thin air keeping us apart.

iii. core
over again, night carves us out.
leaves our bones hollow- consumes naught
but the marrow, slight vestiges.
can we conjure up the beauty? stuck in the center,
the beginning of it all, spinning & twined,
turning away. nothing left for us, only the magma,
moving like a living thing. we know
our limits. submerged, burning away, may the caustic
touch be enough to keep
us whole.

Ivi Hua is an Asian-American writer, dreamer, & poet, with works published/forthcoming in Juven, Polyphony Lit, & the Aurora Journal among others. A Best of the Net nominee & cofounder of Young Poets Workshops, she believes in the unifying power of writing. You can find her @livia.writes.stories on Instagram.