iv. child; prayer inchoateangels, please sing a soothing lullaby
'cos momma's so frigid and pale;
or buy her a ring or a mockingbird
since she's feeling so sad and frail.
oh angels, please wipe the tears from her eyes
and clean the ketchup from her sheets ---
by the way, she kind of looks like a doll,
though broken, and with tiny heartbeats.
but momma's a marionette, i guess;
cos' when that mister comes around,
he reels and pulls her into his dollhouse
and she obeys, without a sound.
angels, momma's just a doll after all
and mister's not a good playmate;
there are cracks on her porcelain skin
and her glass eyes are hollow with hate.
lastly, angels, please help momma stop retching ---
i can't bear to see her unwell.
(child, i'd help your momma if i could
but mister has dragged her to hell.)
v. waltz;solitary spielThe slightest gasp slipped from your lips
Betrayed you: I know you’re still awake.
You are but waiting for the eclipse
To end along with your heartache.
The paint-spill colours of your soul
Is a mottle of too much blue;
Once bursting flames, now reduced to coal –
Vivacious shadows subdued.
(Like the way moonlight kisses
The Polaroid of your love at sea.)
You wonder if he reminisces
Of when you were still young and free.
But I know this: that is, little wishes
For waltzes along the Blue Danube
Are inspired by sepia photographs
And cannot be granted, you see.
You long for embraces and silent laughs
And lazy afternoon teas –
My dear, I’ll give you all you wish
If you would come and waltz with me.
Ignore my dark shroud, if you will;
Choose the rhythm of our piece.
Let not your pallid feet become still –
Oh, you’d rather quick and neat? –
Don’t brood upon sure guarantees
Embedded in your rice paper veins;
All of those are now surely lost at sea –
So come now, and waltz with me.
Admirals come, and admirals go,
They are but mere recollections
Of lives and losses long ago;
They too have imperfections.
Take my hands, trust me on this –
For once, dear, take a chance,
Your life is not something you’d miss
Thus come join me in this dance.
Let these thoughts fester and ferment,
Forget all those lost letters sent;
Follow your husband to where he has went -
And come and waltz with me.
vi. child;untitled. hiding underneath heaps of cotton bedspreads
he peeps out after the gravel-crunching
tire-squeaking
bottle-drinking monster
is finally gone.
look, Daniel says
from his perch on the metal bones of his bed,
ain’t it nice to be free?he shivers, looking at his best friend,
today a shade of unripe banana
against the wall. yeah, he finally replies.
don’t cha wanna have lunch?opaque fingers pull him down
the rabbit hole and back
again.
they dine on stale loafs of bread snitched
from the kitchen.
(frankly, they taste like
stale leather and dog poop.
but children cannot be choosers.)
hey, wanna play Lego?he turns his head to wherever Daniel points to,
and no, please, not the dragon’s lair, not me –
scaredy cat, scaredy cat, loser!
I don’t wanna go, he pleas –
scaredy cat, scaredy cat, loser!
alright, I’m going!
hesitant feet patter on musty floorboards,
echoing through the hallways
a lament of his uncertain fate.
he trembles, he quakes,
he fears
(
scaredy cat, scaredy cat, loser!)
and somehow blurry tiptoeing
leads him to the scarred box in the end.
Daniel ruffles his hair.
good man, he says.
sometime after
when the moon is but a speck of dust on a backlit wash
and ten bottles aren’t hanging on the wall
but on the floor
along with a badly marred boy,
the day is over and done.
and the night rains on him like a never-ending waterfall
of broken bottle shards and curses flung from afar.
in his diary, he writes:
i built a castle today
so that Daniel won’t leave
and that I’d be safe at last.
xv. poems;a brimming cup of teayou ask me how i write poems and my laughter
resonates around the sombre, slumping room. my cigarette flares and snorts
powdery ash onto your impeccable carpet but
encroaches on your lachrymose desires cannot be answered for.
i can tell you only this: i am liquidated
into contumelious acrimony and delirium whenever
the wind dictates her wishes of brine and mud to me and
i drag my limpid form over to my writing desk and it's wherecaniputnadirs
ohthiscan'tbetrueandsoonandsoon
waitthebuoyisnowtaciturn! the ship sails into the harbour,
and quiescence rules the meditating night.
kid, the vastness of the sea cannot be counted;
sand cannot be bottled and put away. to hold water in a ship made of ink and paper,
first stop quibbling and drink your tea.
xxiv. films;tangled in rapunzel's hairlanterns led you to
dreams far beyond frying pans -
now, sing of love, love.
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