Photography by Chiaki Chng

i fold inwards

onto myself

& bend backwards

to face what’s behind

or is it now in front?

or inside?

i don’t know which way’s north

a soft roundness

ripp(l)ed by fragility

exposed behind closed doors

my intestines twist

a double helix

i don’t know which way’s north

a reluctant phone call

a problem solver on the other

end

cinched anger

& a 1970s compass

i don’t know which way’s north

grief folds inwards

onto itself

like learning how to tie a tie

over

behind

in front

through

& down

even still

i don’t know which way’s north