by Nasrin Lin

The colors on the screen flicker
like a cat’s whiskers at night,
hunting. Our bodies
reflected on the screen:
Netflix hues and the blue
hair of Léa Seydoux on
queue, opening
credits blink. The hairs
on our forearms fizzle
like eggs on a pan   her red nails
figure skate across the glass  she sips
and pops a C sharp  eyes
on my back like a stamp.