2 Poems by Cleo Qian

two people facing the moonlight

Winter Sequence

Returning home after the movie 
Night fallen like the ginkgo leaves 

Pulling out last year’s coat
Hello again, goldfish!

Knit caps bobbing below outside 
Winter sunlight warming this room 

Talking about my family as I always do
I feel a new sadness 

Hushed in the crowded auditorium 
In the dark, gold edge of sleep

Morning in November
Sneaking a man out of my room—
Ssh! I’ll buy the coffee

Hearing a friend’s good news 
I think, we were once closer

Zipping up a new pair of boots 
There seems no room for my old self

What My One-Time Lover Thinks Of Me, If He Thinks Of Me

Time has pasted over the memory so only the shape remains.
A taxi ride, white powder line, cold hands tangling
to brush his denim jacket.
The winter of the endless night, a far-off fairy tale of spring.
She had tangled hair like a mermaid, talked ten miles a minute.
In the restaurant with the yellow lights, her cheeks rounded when she smiled.
Her feet were small like a child’s, they fit into his hands 
which now felt soft, enormous, capable.
Together, they watched an aged sparrow with milky eyes 
under the flinty grey of morning.
Months later, I was startled to return to the street corner where we’d waited for the car.
I cannot see myself and picture me as he saw me.
I cannot see myself and erase myself as he has erased me.

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Cleo Qian is a writer based in New York.

Suzy Exposito is a Cuban-Belizean writer, illustrator, and emo for life. She is the Latin music editor at Rolling Stone. You can follow her on Twitter at @HexPositive and @brujacore on Instagram.