Amber Issue 1 - Feb 21

3 a.m.
Silvia Suseno
too late at night we are
perched in front of a washing machine
you are giddy with boyish glee about how it spins.
the whirling colors,
the clink of zippers,
the soap glistening and churning.
on the linoleum tiles,
under the terrible fluorescence,
it is all so brand new.
after, the room is dark
and the city lights
spill out at our fingertips,
and there you are,
whispering partly to yourself
and partly to me,
the brightness of life engulfs me, wholly,
the whole world disappears and bursts
into existence at the same time.
in the breathless joy of this quiet pause,
flight of fancy sort of fatal flaw,
hesitantly, perfectly, it astounds me.
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