Wing Ying Chow

I am on the last page,
Trying to stare through the watermarked paper
To the first with its bolds and caps.

I fit on one palm-sized side.
There…that’s a surname, a given name.
Look. A sex, a date of birth.

I am contained in the reptilian cover.
Careful. The shape is unfamiliar out here.
Smell it. The inside of handbags.