Madeline Dong Poet I do not know?

Fever

I’m from the fireplace where flares emanates from the embers within
I’m from the buttons on the eggshell wall in the hallway, where I see faces with red noses and arms wrapped around their bodies
I’m from the glass window panes, outside beaming in onto your face

I’m from two hands intertwined, never forgetting what it feels like in that moment
I’m from an embrace that lasts minutes, the love erupting out of the chests of cliches
I’m from the nervousness that sets in, forehead gleaming with sweat and a fast beating heart

I’m from the sky, above the clouds, above the moon
I’m from just beyond the spring green leaves of a ginkgo tree, broken and glimmering
I’m from the pavement on the ashen road with quick feet barely touching me as they pass

I’m from the ceramic cup of tea, milk, and a dash of sugar and honey 
I’m from under the pan with sparks flying out when the iron grazes iron 
I’m from the plate on the table when your mother screams “don’t touch it, it’s too hot”

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