SELECTED POEMS

No Epidural

after Sharon Olds, “The Language of the Brag”

arena

First the fear
then the surge—
exhilaration
pulsing through the body
with each contraction.

I toss my head and walk into the cage.
I take the stance of a fighter.

ocean

Like surfing a sixteen-metre wave—
the wall of pain rises to its roaring crest and I catch it,
keeping my feet, sliding down its face, all the way
to the shallows.

I ride all night.

ballroom

Dancing with pain—
it turns and I turn with it,
feet moving faster, and faster,
until we are blurry with motion

until I break free, laughing,
playing tricks with my mind—
I am a fish that lives in the air
and a bird that breathes in the sea.

No one can catch me.

inside

You, little one, are the bird that breathes in the sea,
surfacing, ready to roll through transition; you are the chick
rocking the egg, in unsteady motion; pressing
to break the shell from the inside.

grandstand

What is arrival but one fluid motion,
the flourish of delivery?

I swim back to shore, body spent.
I reach for something laconic:
Try that, boys.

I cradle my glistening prize.

by Miriam Wei Wei Lo
from Who Comes Calling? (2023)

 

SELECTED POEMS: "Bumboat Cruise on the Singapore River" >