One afternoon, after the storm

we are still safe inside the room
where no rain can ever touch us.

The cat warms your feet with a velvety
slithering tail. The dragon kite we have

made (for three days) from special paper is
now marooned in the branches of the tallest

tree in town, and there is nothing we can do
about it. That night, you must have been

dreaming of how we've lost it. Your eyelids
have been twitching in your sleep, watching

the colors of the stranded kite being
defaced by the intruding, twisted branches.

I, I have given up on it. I just imagine
colors for all the things I cannot see.

—Kristine Ong Muslim