Cyril Wong (b. 1977)
SELECTED POEMS
Aubade
Getting up. Harder
with each indifferent hour
I remain in bed.Soon, sunlight enters
the room like a lover and
everything is touched.The self sliding shut
over something not quite meant
to be imprisoned.Some days the process
is delayed—brief comfort of
nothing in the head.But the day demands
I heave my legs off the bed—
anchors into sea.Words like loneliness
creep back into the spaces
between each heartbeat.Soles of my feet re-
stitch themselves to their shadows
forming on the floor.
by Cyril Wong
from Unfree Verse (2017)
