Yesterday you asked me
where had I
hidden away your
blue dress,

the one I had
borrowed, so to speak
and you sounded so angry.

What could I answer?
We ceased to fit
long ago,

too busy were we with
the work of
erasing.

No stains now, just
the faintest whiff
of fled memory

fabric
bleached to blinding
seamless

(but for you not something
slipped on and off so
easily)

while me I yearn for
a homespun shift
of dreams;

since my tongue, too unskilled
makes a game of
coaxing back into
continuity
snapped threads

and
makes a mockery
of your toil

with its crude
attempts at
reclamation

Eleanor Lin (she/her/hers) is a second-year student in Columbia College studying computer science and linguistics. She can be found on Instagram as @elemlin and on FaceBook as @eleamlin. You can find her other work at linktr.ee/elealin.