the seam of an egg
when broken
is only a jagged map
back to something whole,
the silhouette of a mountain
in quiet porcelain.
the place where the coffee
stained the counter,
a scratch in the floorboards,
the permanent trails
we leave behind us
in places we forget.
put me back together
and there will always be
a shadow
over my shoulder,
there will always be
a low instrument
playing deep notes.
i used to live there.
someone i kissed.
the night i folded in half
because you forgot
how to love me.
and the only one
who said anything
was a clock upon the wall.
i don’t remember
the sound that i make
when i lose you
but when i kiss you
i hope that i keep forgetting.


one of the things
about love
is how it reveals monsters to me
in my own temples
and chest,
with slow heavy legs,
i have become a drum
against the floorboards.

but i decide and speak gently,
there is a timing to the return
like a ball flying over a net,
the when of the kiss
and the sibilance of the yes.

there was a giving in,
the top of the lighthouse,
when my fierce fist
became soft against the rail
and lifted right off,
there was the night where
i let you hold me
like i was hardly there at all,
some piece of clothing
that had caught up in your sheets.
some feather moving in your breath.
a whole being
dissolved in your glass.

frequencies unheard because we are sleeping.

i have grown toward you.
the stems are curved like this.
all of my careful
and carelessness.
the song in the shower
and the world on a map.

i will let you
if you will let me.

Lotte Kestner w/ Montavilla, China 2014

8.8 Beijing
8.9 Shanghai :
8.10 Nanjing :
8.12 Chongqing:
8.14 Chengdu :
8.15 Wuhan :
8.16 Changsha:
8.17 Guangzhou :
8.19 Shenzhen :