Quarterly Literary Review Singapore
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Current Issue:
Vol. 3 No. 2 Jan 2004

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Dear Poem

I havenít written you in a long time.
A sudden window winks open.
The sky has my fatherís
beaten face. I missed you. I missed how
you comforted me the way you
comfort me now with your wide-eyed
lucidity, the languor of the patient
unfurling of yourself, luxuriously
disregarding the latest betrayal
like a headline stark across the front
page of my face. But I will not
write about it here, along the margin
of your insides, although you are in love
with such unsung facts Ė the pearly whitehead
on my chin, that faint odour from my feet
scaling the airís ladder into the previous line Ė
and why not? Who cares if someone else
would never believe that such things
may not also be poetic?
But now I want only to talk of you.
How many like you have I already
composed with such authentic chords
of truth, loud and clear within them.
My beloved one-night-stand
who never stops coming
to love me at all the right times:
after unbearable grief
or after every rare moment
of contentment, even joy.
You who never lie except when I
want you to, if only to augment a distant
but more vital truth. I love you,
dear poem. I love you
because you hold pain up upon
the quiet of your palm, raising it
so I might see it in the best possible light.

By Cyril Wong


QLRS Vol. 3 No. 2 Jan 2004

_____


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  Other Poems in this Issue

Letter From Home
By Grace Chua.

Palmistry
By Gilbert Koh.

A Half Orange
By Aishwarya Iyer.

Histories
By Avik Chanda.

The Heron is a Kind Bird
By Bridget-Rose Lee.

Intermissions
By Ma Shaoling.

Just
By Corey Mesler.

generation
By Edlyn Ang.

season in grey and white
By Ken Lee.

Construction
By Gilbert Koh.

 

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