2022 Poetry Collection,  Uncategorized



If I could be a cloud

I’d move the L

But since I’m not a cloud

Perhaps I’ll just be loud

Loud as in reading aloud

As in I am allowed

To be immeasurably close or distant

A cloud, you could say

Just over the horizon or

Ever present in your backyard


I owe myself more that I could hope to repay

For those crawling hours

That boast how much future I’ve stolen

Oh, it’s an eyesore but

Don’t dare say I didn’t try because

Offering myself the world is a taller order than you’d think

Oh if only you know of the holes I bit through my lip

But say no more

I’d rather not hear of it


People say victory with a V

With legs shoulder-width apart and arms akimbo

Their chin pointed towards their goals

There’s a vast variety of me’s

A vast variety of you’s

Remarkable, then, that we met now, today, here

There then, is our victory

Because there’s no denying 

How vanishingly unlikely it is

That the very second I look up

You are meeting my eyes


It’s invisible in your mouth

Romanticized but unappreciated

In its simplest, commonest iterations

It rounds off the tips of needles and edges

A balancing act of unassuming proportions

It’s nothing so grand as the end of the world

For all that it very much feels like the beginning of an epoch

An emotion so mundane in its humanity 

We’ve imbued it with magic

Why do we call it a first love when it is love from which we are born?

Just something I’ve always wondered

To myself

Jenny Xu

Jenny is a UBC slam alumni.

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