The Wax Poem | Andy Winter
wax = to seal, to strip.
i have sliced myself open like an envelope countless times. i am just a letter. that yearns to be licked, to be stamped. that never gets sent. always lost in the mailroom, on the bathroom floor, at the bottom of the sea. siren song of foam & razor.
wax = to lyric, to open your gab & have a garden spill out.
if i wish to speak, i stuff my mouth full. the days of the lunar new year can’t seem to pass by any sooner. the love letters flake, around the corners of chapped petals. no one can call me flowery. no one can call me fruity. if i cannot be heard.
wax = to evolve, to become, to grow close to fullness
i change my face more frequently than the moon. she has nothing on me. i am crescent-lidded & gibbous-cheeked. body interstellar. body in transit. body in orbit.
weightless yet anchored
not to the ground
but to some other world
some other future
About the Author:
Andy Winter (they/them/she/her) is a non-binary trans-femme ice goddess from the sunny city of Singapore. Their works have appeared in adda, beestung, SAND, Stellium, and Strange Horizons amongst others. They were a ’22 Lambda Literary Poetry Fellow. Find them chilling at https://whispersinwinter.wordpress.com/