This engrossing poem by Ysabelle Cheung mixes culture criticism with everyday minutia.
those icy shadows reach further out
I planted them
the siren song calls harmonizing with the dirge of those who listened
The vultures stare, what does it mean?Does something wicked this way come?Nothing is as it seems They gather silently in the treesNo one knows where fromThe vultures stare, what does it mean? They peck at my heart upon my sleeveGray in judgment: cold in bloodNothing is as it seems Love is blind, and lovers cannot seeRough winds do shake the darling budsThe vultures stare, what does it mean? Happiness takes his leave.Rain pounds earth into mudNothing is as it seems To be, or not to be?The tides surge and valleys floodThe vultures stared, what did it mean?Nothing is as it seemed
Flowers on the alter Satin for your skin Water sprinkled from above Flowers in your hair Satin for your skin Wafer from above Flowers in your hands Satin for your skin Vows for above Flowers on your bedside Satin for your skin Prayers to above Flowers at your feet Satin for your skin Dirt sprinkled from above
I slip through the trees while the light turns slowly from indigo to a pale yellow the houses still glow amber spilling their secrets
I told you