4 Poems

Salt, brine
By Fei Wu

Salt, brine,
foaming to my knees.

The sun, lost,
erased.

But I have never walked easy
under its reign,

have kept myself in shadows,
in the shallows.

Let the water enfold –
pre-cambrian, amniotic,
the essence of veins
poured over dry valleys,
over scuttling black shells,

over me.

Take away the pull of gravity.
Let it bury,
flow out the sockets of my eyes,
hollows of my lips,
my fingertips.

Hallowed, kept, safe,
I will burst into light –
a cloud of jellyfish,
fierce and stinging,
I take flight.

Woven Stones
By Effie Pow

Heavy harvest on my back, woven stones at the door,
Bamboo mats as threadbare wood,
Kitchen scents, stained and damp, how many times have
Thick feet crossed the threshold; arms unburdened bundles at the table.
Hands meet over choicest leaves – so newly green under open sun;
Today I bear an armful to my oldest acquaintance and gentle neighbour,
Waiting patiently at her spun stones, are these specific shaded forms.
Grey dust from my tired hands, I seek a band of sky and precision.
How many steps and bends engaged, crossing fields, village path,
Bursting through another day, these upturned baskets finally rest.

With apologies to T.S. Eliot.
By R.Silver

I have measured out my life in coffee spoons
and cigarette butts
and the loves that I’ve lost.
I have measured it in the width of your smile
and the length of time
we can stand in the rain
not noticing.

Art in Mushrooms
By Kong Poey Leng

Waving their many filigree strands
Gnarled fingers dried in elegance
Pointing to the unknown
Bend together in acquiescence

We melt into the darkness
Yet have no fear
Still, our fate;
To be eaten with wood ears

In our ordinary form,
The photographer finds beauty
For who is to define that
Something, dried in elegance
Could yet be admired