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The subject matter as well as the format of your poems is entirely up to you as long as they are not graphic enough to potentially disturb your fellow classmates. I will assign your work to another student at random and ask that you submit no later than midnight on each Sunday before class.
Rule #1: Do not write your name on your submissions. This assignment is meant to be completely anonymous and not subject to public critique.
Rule #2: Once you collect your weekly exchange piece, do not open the envelope until you’ve returned to your respective homes whether on or off campus.
Rule #3: At the end of the semester, you may reveal your identities, but I strongly encourage you all to keep the secret alive for the fun of the project.
Use this opportunity to write freely and expressively as you will. May you open your hearts and inspire.
—
Jingnu’s round eyes merely glossed over those instructions from the very first day in favor of her own impatient, ever-curious hands as she once again began to tear open the latest envelope only just past the classroom’s threshold.
Her peers shook their heads as they passed and when she caught their chiding stares, roses bloomed across her cheeks, leading her to scurry down the halls and out toward the courtyard in embarassment.
Dog-eared textbooks and an unkempt journal threatened her pace as they continued to weigh her down the faster she walked. The fight to keep them steady in her grasp only worsened as Jingnu held the tattered envelope between her teeth and insistent fingers sought to unfold the inked parchment that was tucked away inside it.
The elegant and now familiar strokes of penmanship unfolded in her palms and Jingnu could only bite her bottom lip to quell the involuntary smile that stretched across her face week after week. For mere words, not even in her name, had besot her entirely.
A ghost lies nestled within my rib
He sings of verdant blades that worship the sun
He thrums against my bones like hooves over gravel
He sends arrows soaring through my veins
To seek out my heart
For it was buried somewhere beyond the plains
For it took flight without me
For it is free
For I am without it
And a ghost lies nestled in its place
But she is a map of stars
With constellations on her skin
And I think she knows the way
I think she knows the way home
In the time she read, Jingnu managed to safely (not that she noticed the aggravated cyclist who nearly ran her over along the way) reach her dorm building and climb the stairway to her third floor apartment. She paused in the hallway as she squealed with delight at the endearingly romantic twist her exchange partner always managed to end their prose with. And to her dismay, the display of excitement was the last straw for the tomes in her arms as they all finally tumbled to the carpeted floor below.
“Of course,” she muttered with a defeated sigh. As she knelt to the ground to gather the scattered notes, Jingnu failed to hear a pair of muddied boots come to a halt at the corner of her eighth edition copy of ‘ An Introduction to Politcal Theory ’. A calloused, lightly sunburned hand reached for the splayed spine. Jingnu slowed her movements and glanced up to find her neighbor from the dorm across hers had crouched in front of her, bemusedly sifting through the pages of whatever section the book had fallen open to.
That toffee gaze at last decided to melt over Jingnu’s partly disheveled state and returned to her senses, though the same could not be said for Jingnu. She sat on her haunches, mouth parted dazedly as she watched the taller woman roll her sleeves over her elbows and get to work collecting the remaining textbooks between them. A pretty, nervous chuckle broke the silence, “Sorry, I’m a bit of a bookworm so I couldn’t help myself.”
Qiyan stood up and offered her free hand for Jingnu to take. The soft smile she wore turned her eyes to crescents, much like the scar that kissed her left cheek.
Delicate, hesitant fingers crawled their way across Qiyan’s tanned flesh, allowing her to gently hoist Jingnu to her feet. And all too quickly the warmth of her palm vanished.
But, just as the weight of her obvious attraction nearly crushed her, Jingnu remembered the lines that had already stolen her heart. Steeling her resolve, she cleared her throat and offered Qiyan some quiet, stuttered gratitude before quickly retrieving her belongings and excusing herself to her own apartment, all but leaving her neighbor in a cloud of dust.
She sank against the inside of the front door with a groan. “Get it together, Jingnu. Where is your loyalty? You can’t have your cake and stick your fork in someone else’s. How would you be any better than your father, then?” she reprimanded herself.
Grumpily, she kicked off her shoes and slid into her favorite bunny slippers before dumping all of her stuff on the kitchen table. Just as she wrenched open the fridge in search of the unfinished slice of red velvet cake that was sure to remedy her mood, a melody rang through the back pocket of her jeans.
After digging it out and checking the caller ID, she hit the answer button and propped her phone against a stack of yogurt cups. Sunu and Shunu’s faces appeared as she continued to rummage through a labyrinth of takeout and tupperware.
“Seriously? Did you really have to stick us in the fridge? If you didn’t spend all your time eating maybe you’d have a boyfriend by now,” her eldest sister nagged. Jingnu quipped back, “Well not all of us were eager to get hitched and knocked up before they could even legally drink—”
Shunu’s heavy sigh and tired voice cut between them, “I would rather not spend another lunch break hearing your vastly differing opinions.” Her sisters rolled their eyes as she shoved a forkful of salad in her mouth before speaking again, “So, let’s hear this week’s love letter.”
Jingnu audibly choked as her whole face stained pink. She finally found the small white box that had been pushed to the back of the refrigerator’s middle shelf and scurried to the table, her phone using the napkin holder for leverage this time. “It’s not… a love letter. It’s not even like it’s for me, really.” She grew more timid as she spoke, because nothing quieted Jingnu faster than feeling embarrassed. “And yet, you gush about the author as if they were in fact your lover. So, what’s the difference?” Shunu questioned knowingly.
Sunu piped up then just as Jingnu’s cheeks flared like two stop lights, “She’s right, you know. I say forget those stupid rules and find out who this guy is already.” Shunu let a dry laugh escape her, “Jiejie, who said it was a guy? They could just as well be a woman or anything. Though I doubt a man could ever be so romantic…”
Jingnu giggled as Sunu started rambling a mile a minute about just how charming and sentimental her husband could be, as expected, before a soft knock at the door caught her attention. She gestured with a finger for her sisters to hopefully remain silent as she went to check who was there.
On the other side of the door was Qiyan with lightly dampened hair and a very loose tank top on. The scent of amber and jasmine hung in the doorway as she loomed over Jingnu’s small frame. “I’m sure you’re quite busy, but I seemed to have taken one of your books hostage without noticing. Sorry for the trouble,” she said with that same gentle smile. Jingnu hadn’t even noticed the textbook in her hand with how enthralled her senses had become, all but soaked in the honey of her irises.
“N-no, it’s no trouble at all. I’m sorry I sped off earlier without properly thanking you, I just… tend to be a bit clumsy sometimes and it’s not something I enjoy having witnesses present for. But, um, thank you for your help,” Jingnu shyly spoke up as she took the tome and held it to her chest as if it would keep the last shred of her dignity from slipping out.
Qiyan’s gaze only softened at her shyness as she replied, “Don’t worry, it’s my pleasure.” She glanced down at her lips briefly and gestured toward her own. “Ah, you have some icing right here,” the taller woman mentioned. But, Jingnu was too nervous to tell right from left and her trembling hand couldn’t direct itself to clean the mess she made.
Lucky for her, Qiyan was more than willing to finish the job.
There was a ghost of apology between them Jingnu never heard over the rush of blood in her ears as Qiyan’s hand reached forward. A calloused thumb brushed over her bottom lip and returned to Qiyan’s own lips. “Sweet.”
A pipe burst somewhere deep in Jingnu’s veins and rushed to flood her head, suddenly all too aware of the hot and heavy pulse beating into her eardrums. And when it was already all too much to bear, pupils blown to black jade caught a glimpse of Qiyan’s exposed chest through the wide gap of fabric bowing out to gravity as she remained at eye level with Jingnu in the doorway. Hypnotized, she followed a tiny bead of water as it swam over the curve of her breastbone and down to kiss the scar just underneath it.
—
Jingnu doesn’t remember what was said after that, let alone her own first name. Flurrying thoughts bounced off the walls of her mind like a pinball machine, nearly tripping over her own ankles as she ambled back to her sisters’ video call. She sat in stunned silence until Sunu practically screamed her name through the phone, “Earth to Jingnu! Hello?! We asked who the hell was there.” Shunu added, “Was it your hot neighbor?” Jingnu covered her face with her hands and mumbled a string of curses to herself. “You have a hot neighbor and no one told me?!” her elder sister complained.
Shunu did most of the talking after that, filling Sunu in on what she knew of Jingnu’s previous run-ins with Qiyan since moving into the dorm across the hall at the start of the semester. Their encounters had always been brief, mostly thanks to Jingnu becoming tongue-tied and fleeing the scene. Sunu cooed and both her and Shunu teamed up to push Jingnu to make a move and stop waiting on what might be a disappointing ending to a poetic fantasy.
Strewn over her mattress, Jingnu unleashed one troubled, lovelorn sigh after the next. She was stubborn to a fault, that was certain, but she had to admit there was some truth to her sisters’ advice. As much as she clung to those inked pages full of hope, she knew most of her hesitance with Qiyan was due to her own inexperience with women in the dating department. She honestly hadn’t even realized it until the day Qiyan arrived:
It was late in the afternoon and Jingnu had come from the gym on campus, blasting the Carly Rae Jepsen album she had on repeat, and completely oblivious to the stack of cardboard boxes in the middle of the hallway. And of course, not only did she trip, but she fell right in, ass first. Qiyan heard a high-pitched squeal and came running out to find Jingnu, in her matching red sports bra and leggings, stuck in her box of calligraphy materials. In an attempt to smooth things over upon seeing the embarrassed look on Jingnu’s face, Qiyan spoke up with a lopsided smile, “I don’t recall any of my belongings being this pretty. It seems you need a hand.”
Admittedly, since then, nights in which Jingnu didn’t see that very same smile in her sleep were few and far between.
—
Worried as she was about premature wrinkles, Jingnu’s brow knotted impossibly tight as she stood outside Qiyan’s door that evening. Heart-shaped ceramic pot in tow, she chewed her bottom lip raw with indecision. She had cooked double her usual portion of stew for dinner and brought the rest (by her sisters’ suggestion) over for Qiyan to indulge in.
With a sharp exhale, Jingnu carefully set the cookware on the ground and attached a pink handwritten note to the lid. But as soon as she rose and let her fist lightly knock at the wood in front her, she bolted like lightning right back into the safety of her own dorm. Hardly able to catch her breath, she squeezed one eye shut and got on her tiptoes to look through her peephole. Qiyan emerged, albeit confused, until she lowered her gaze and crouched to read what was written on the pink post-it Jingnu left. She chuckled and looked toward Jingnu’s door (causing the latter to hide momentarily as if she could be seen) before lifting the pot and bringing it inside.
Jingnu’s eyes sparkled and her shoulders heaved in relief until Qiyan left her apartment once more, this time heading straight across the hall, making Jingnu gasp and almost leap backward.
However, rather than the knock she expected, a piece of paper was slid beneath the doorframe instead. Jingnu blinked a few times before bending down to retrieve it.
Hello Neighbor,
Thank you for the stew, it smells divine. It would be no fair exchange if I didn’t provide for you as well. If it’s no trouble, I would love to treat you to some of my mother’s rose pu-erh tea later this evening. The sweet, floral notes would suit your tastes quite well, I surmise.
Yours,
Qiyan
The parchment slipped through her fingers and returned to the floor. It wasn’t the offer, nor the kindness in Qiyan’s greeting that had Jingnu paralyzed from root to tip, no.
No, it was those finely inked strokes and that tone she’d know even if she were rendered blind.
Her poet. It was Qiyan.
Without a second thought, she wrenched her door open and marched across the carpet in her bunny slippers. Qiyan barely let her knock twice before appearing, eyes aglow with delight in her presence. Every word, every question died on her tongue in an instant. And she became all too aware of her unkempt state, still clad in her crimson satin robe and nightdress. Qiyan watched in amusement as Jingnu tried to discreetly cover her chest and remove the curler from her bangs with a pout.
“I’m happy to see you accepted my invitation. Please, do come inside. The halls are terribly drafty, I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold,” Qiyan said, side-stepping to let Jingnu pass before softly shutting the door behind them.
That same jasmine that wafted from Qiyan’s skin consumed the entirety of her small studio. Jingnu paused to admire the bookshelf that stood full to the brim where most students set up their televisions, caressing the leather spines of a dozen well-worn tomes.
Her gaze drifted over to the kitchen table where Qiyan busied herself pouring tea for the both of them. With all those books, it was no wonder she was such an eloquent writer.
The amber in Qiyan’s eyes flickered at the sight of Jingnu’s fingers prancing along her prized collection. “You’re free to borrow anything that piques your interest. As long as you allow me to pick your brain after you finish. If so, what’s mine is yours.”
Flames lapped at Jingnu’s cheeks as those last words led her gaze astray and fastened upon Qiyan’s pretty mouth. And Qiyan certainly took notice.
She pried her eyes away bashfully and as she did, something else stole her attention. A curious notch formed between her brows at what lay pinned at the center of a corkboard hung upon Qiyan’s wall. As she drew closer, her jaw slackened.
She was a tree
Full of life and flowers to bear
Three seasons, three peonies
The first bloomed plump and pink
Happy to be a tree herself
The second bloomed elegant and purple
Happy to be no more than petals
But the third bloomed vibrant and red
Happy… but only if she could grow wild and free
Crystals formed on Jingnu’s lashes as she recognized her own handwriting and the poem she submitted not even 24 hours prior to her creative writing professor.
‘What’s mine, is yours.’
“Ah, I see you found the work of my current favorite poet. In their prose alone, it’s easy to see what a beautiful soul they have tucked away beneath their fingertips. I’ve been wanting to tell them how much I admire them. But, ha… rules are rules,” Qiyan had strolled beside Jingnu while she was distracted and spoke in a manner so gentle, Jingnu nearly withered right where she stood.
“Fuck the rules,” Jingnu mumbled as she whipped around and reached up to grab Qiyan’s bewildered face with both hands and drag her down to meet her heart to heart with a kiss doused in longing. She felt Qiyan quickly recover in the warmth of a sigh as she smiled against her lips, peppering peck after peck until Jingnu felt dizzy with amorous affection.
As Jingnu pulled back for air, she nuzzled the edge of the scar along Qiyan’s cheek and breathlessly whispered, “Tell me again.”
Qiyan brushed a thumb over her closed eyelid, hiding a stray tendril back behind Jingnu’s ear. She watched as her lashes fluttered open and met her honey butter gaze head on. Teasingly she replied, “Do I need to be the one to say everything?”
Jingnu rolled her eyes and puffed her cheeks indignantly, which only beckoned Qiyan forth to steal another taste of her cherry pout with a warm chuckle.
She tried to look away, feeling vulnerable again as she whispered, “Please.” And though it may not have appeared as such, Qiyan felt her knees buckle right there and then.
Tenderly, Qiyan curled her fingers around Jingnu’s chin and turned her head. Eyes as wide and vast as the milky way twinkled in her direction with more light than Jingnu could ever see for herself.
“There it is. My map of stars.”