SELECTED POEMS

Chemo

It is night on your skin
where the needles swam.

Your body’s practiced betrayal
halves the venom’s speed today.

We have porridge for dinner again.
The swollen grain like flies’ eggs

hang together as we hang
together. I suppose in an older age

the eggs would have hatched and the maggots
would be weaning gratefully

on you, whom I kiss
with veils about my eyes.

The sheets that hold your sleep
ebb and flow and beg your ease

to God who’s just about ready to—
look all I’m saying is

life does all the work
and we let death take all the credit.

by David Wong Hsien Ming
from For the End Comes Reaching (2015)

 

BIOGRAPHY >