Poetry By Cyril Wong



It returns in the midst
Of a grateful embrace,
And then I understand,
Presently at least, its
Simplicity, so pure to
Mention the misted glass,
The leaden curtains still
As truth on either side
Of the sky would reveal
But too little, too much.
Even the blanket pressed
Upon our bodies, fact
Of its heaviness, fails
To bear on its plainness.
While I compose this, it
Flickers like night vision,
Brief instants of sudden
Clarity. I note just
How tenderly it hides,
As blood under these veils
Of flesh, as the movement
Of clouds overhead, as
The long sighs of the man
Or woman fast asleep
Beside and inside us.


Cyril Wong 2002

More Poetry:
Blue Breath
Pure White

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Bio: Born in 1977, Cyril Wong is the author of two collections of poetry, Squatting Quietly and The End Of His Orbit, both published in Singapore. His poems have been published in literary journals in Singapore. Overseas, his work has been featured in Atlantic Review, and Di-Verse-City in USA, as well as Papertiger and Slope in Australia. In 2002, he was invited to read at the Austin International Poetry Festival as well as the Queensland Poetry Festival in Australia.