But we would have to write letters |
by Bernice Chauly
You interest me, you said— like the pained pink neck of a minion's brace pinned to the noon like minnows
You pervade me like a deep, marrow grass purple with longing gratuitious red, succulent gentle with hard hand boot and pen
Your seed did not ferment in my mouth that sticky marrow of youth so ripe, purulent
You strode me you stuck it into me and made me taste that new decay
Bug-eyed and cold the spring air crept in hard rivulets framing your face without grace, without anything resembling warmth I lay still— the bed, unholy now that spent morning of all that was you.
Bernice Chauly is a Malaysian writer, poet, educator and Director of the George Town Literary Festival. She is the author of five books of poetry and prose which include the award-winning memoir Growing Up With Ghosts (2011) and her critically acclaimed third collection of poems, Onkalo (2013). For over twenty years she worked as a multidisciplinary artist and is recognised as one of the most significant voices of her generation. She is an Honorary Fellow in Writing from the University of Iowa's International Writing Program (IWP 2014) and currently teaches creative writing at the University of Nottingham Malaysia Campus. Her upcoming novel will be published by Epigram Books in 2017. Visit her website for more information. (Photo credit: Daniel Adams) |