Paraselene

How you discommode me

you, paraselene
heavenly body with stolen light

I could scratch your age off
with a nail

charges fighting off hebetude
you who talks at coke speed

or not at all
sipping your drink like venom

and expecting an applause
when you over-apologise

how can something stolen throw such shine
as to blind the world

how come when the shade becomes
the place to live

I still feel the urge to catch
a little of your glow.

*****

This poem was written after a prompt I found on Instagram. I was part of the poetry and writer community there, and Chimen Georgette Kouri, one of the talented writers whose work I love to read, had kindly provided these orphan lines to inspire other creatives.

If you’re curious you can find Chimen on Instagram @chimenkouri or on her website Emotional Alchemy.

Tidal Flats

handcut collage of torn strips from a beach picture with an old drawing of a taxidermy lion. White chrysanthemum flowers were added digitally.
Memento Mori

This insipid afternoon of quicksand
your memory is clawing at me
sinking and reaching for less treacherous ground
scratching at the air, because it is instinctual to fight
even when there is no hope – there are no trees
nor branches on the tidal flats
I cower from its force, sitting on the stairs
with my brow burrowed in
the crook of my arm, a temporary crevice
to hide in – then I look up ashamed
when I hear again the scuffle of black loafers
on the tiles that belonged to your old apartment building
I did not want to see it leave, wheeled out,
a black plastic bag handled with such decorum
the ultimate macabre object
or is it what is within?
your sallow skin, sunken, creviced,
worn to the thread, a taxidermy lion
would look more lively
as the blood sinks it becomes clear
that this body is nothing but a vessel
your lips wrinkled in like an overripe apricot,
but with none of its colour
they formed a final O, a gasp of awe
at the shock of when the injection stopped your heart
had you had a change of mind again
at the very last second?
the tide comes in quicker than you think.

***

Four years ago my dad lost his battle with an aggressive lung cancer. He chose euthanasia, a decision I supported fully. Nevertheless, I found it to be a surreal experience and somewhat traumatising. I wrote this poem about a year ago, when I finally found some space to think back to that day.

A birthday and a zine

Yes I am celebrating my birthday today, and the best way I know to do that is to share some of my latest poetry with you.

This poem is from the zine I have been working on over the summer. It contains eight new poems and three collage art illustrations.

The zine is called Profoundly Pandora and it is available on Etsy.