Grace Chia (b. 1973)
SELECTED POEMS
Helter-Skelter
He knew she was broken and so did she
about him, one look told her about the ghost
that was inside him refusing to leave, the dead
lovers piled one on top of another like stacks of
firewood ready to burn; she could smell the fire
before she saw the smoke, knowing burnt flesh
from another time she heard the crackle of
someone else she had devoted her life to but
who had gone, who’s gone and she’s now alone,
staring at this lonesome figure in front of her,
they who smell the same, of sweat and blood
and thirst of those who had seen the bottom of
wells too often and sat with mulch, croaking
with no one listening, no one who cares about
the solitary and lost. The woods is full of them.
If she listens hard enough, she can hear what
he’s thinking out loud, his lips moving fast with
no sound. She will never know what he wants.
She doesn’t know what she deserves, or when
the past will ever go away. This is the present,
she says, the future is yet to be, come join me,
but his lips are moving fast with no sound,
his feet strutting to the door, the sound of the
wind is coming in through the crack, the house
is shaking to a quake, a wolf is outside, waiting,
she cries, howling too, he sees what she’s
going through, he stops his silence, says, Go.
by Grace Chia
from Mother of All Questions (2017)
