euclidean geometry states that two lines
travelling in whatever direction they are headed
will only intersect once
i stand
at the intersection of my palm
my feet lie where two lives merge at a single point
in an infinite plane of promises that say forever in a life that is not ours
I want to stay here forever
in between the awkward geometry of patchwork
you and me
our lives crossing under the same stitch
at the same time
i stop
at the boundary of where you end and where this monster of a disease begins
i don’t want our lines to part
i don’t want to count the seconds
my fingers trail in the milk of your skin
and they come up
dripping with stardust
who would’ve thought we could end up
with a theorem that would
allow life to imitate math so exactly
around us,
invisible pinpricks of light suspended in the air
arranged into a puzzle with a missing piece, the picture destroyed
melted into stardust
and somewhere between sand and stardust and between every collapse and creation
between when mice live in the sockets of our empty bones
between the last time someone mentions your name—then mine
that I can hold you again
stardust in stardust
wait for me
at the intersection.
Julia Li
Grade: 11 / Sec. V
University of Toronto Schools
Toronto, ON
“When my dog died, I finally understood what people meant when they said that separation is inevitable. We might share fleeting, singular moments with the ones we love and cherish, but in that brief intersection, exists an eternity of meaning. ”
Bio
Julia Li is a grade 11 student from Toronto, Ontario. She loves all things from writing poetry to scientific research and tries to use her writing to unite the two. In her free time, you can find her attempting to follow Gordon Ramsay's cookbook or on the swing at her local park.