Tag Archives: Ian Chung

After The Bomb Went Off V

roaches scuttled out in eagerness to survey their inheritance This is a reprint of work originally published in Four and Twenty. Ian Chung

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The Green Bike

Angela liked Friday evenings best, for that was when the man with the green bike came by the house. He always brought her a bar of Hershey’s Cookies ‘n’ Creme, breaking off half and handing it to her ceremonially before … Continue reading

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Infidelity

Lunchtime and the city releases us, gasping for unrecycled air but lungs filling with smog, today’s egg sandwiches already gone soggy, while the plaza is packed by slim cut suits and ties. Traffic swerves and screeches, the acrid tang of … Continue reading

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Adequacy

After Thom Gunn When we wake in the night with the sheets tangled round our legs, we switch the light on/off without a sound, just checking to make sure who lies beside us here. Love grows by exploring the boundaries … Continue reading

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Waters

At Aigues-Mortes, I bring along Sarraute’s Enfance, subtly letting the locals know that I may be a tourist, but I am a true Francophone as well. The wind blows through the town square, toppling placards of restaurants that advertise exactly … Continue reading

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Boundaries

For ten hours we chew up asphalt, spitting out gravel in our wake, shaking dust off wheels. Unsettling, to realise that some borders are not discontinuities anywhere other than the mind. Fall asleep in France. Now wake up to find … Continue reading

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After The Bomb Went Off III

the sky is falling guess who has the last laugh now Chicken Little crows This is a reprint of work originally published in Three Line Poetry. Ian Chung

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Boarding Passes

As you pace back and forth in front of the displays, I want to tell you things will not get any worse, that we will still make it. Except I am not sure what I would mean by that. Am … Continue reading

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Stonehenge

The touch of air to bare skin is searing. But this is what I came here to witness, Stone against stone against sky against time. So I press the warm disembodied voice To my ear again. It says, listen on, … Continue reading

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After The Bomb Went Off II

hold me please hold me so I did as if a hug could shut out the smoke This is a reprint of work originally published in Three Line Poetry. Ian Chung

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After The Bomb Went Off VI

antennae twitching the meek venture forth into their new-made Eden This is a reprint of work originally published in escarp. Ian Chung

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Spring Cleaning

each sweep of the broom brings the floor one tile closer to how she saw it This is a reprint of work originally published in escarp. Ian Chung

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Battlefield

The room is crowded with people, all dancing to the beat emanating from the enormous speakers in each corner. Their eyes meet and hold each other’s gaze for a heartbeat, before breaking away to focus back on the friends they … Continue reading

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Reprieve

two fistfuls of green on the ground gleaming with growth, glowing with green in a shade richer than the moss, not buried today by freak frost (there will always be tomorrow and its patient inclemencies), obscured instead by leaf litter … Continue reading

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Breaking Up For Dummies

Dear [name of ex-to-be],             There is no easy way             to break the news to you,             [blundered attempt at tact].             I just want you to know             [lame excuse or reason],             but I really am             [empty apology]             I will always treasure             [Hallmark … Continue reading

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Fallen

anthocyanin fades what greenly glowing grows precipitously This is a reprint of work originally published in Haiku Journal. Ian Chung

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Snowflakes

The corridor had a single bare bulb, glaringly bright and swinging from the ceiling. He quietly made his way towards the steel door at the end, curiosity having got the better of him at last. Through the cracks around the … Continue reading

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Ekphrasis

Across the ceiling their bodies stretch: Adam recumbent in ease and not appearing too bothered, God straining to reach the image of Himself, as their fingertips almost touch. Deep within the heart of Vatican City, this space is an eloquent … Continue reading

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Foundations

There are no subways in Florence, Rumbling underneath through tunnels. No underground parking spaces, Cavernous and fluorescent-lit. No underpasses, choking with The rush of locals and tourists. People move on the surface here, Across cobbled stone and gravel. What this … Continue reading

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Another Night On The Patio

Ice cubes clink in a glass. It isn’t just our drinks that are on the rocks now. So I offer you words. A mint or two or three to soothe your angry throat made hoarse by your own words. Don’t … Continue reading

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Three’s (Not) A Crowd

Tonight, before I sleep, I will write my will. It may interest you to know that you are one of the beneficiaries. Nothing fancy, I promise. Just an old cardboard box, filled with some items that I thought were worth … Continue reading

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Choreography

The patina of age lies heavily on your silverware. It dully gleams, lying on fine bone china scattered between us: another falsehood. I stack the moon-like plates, cratered by time’s passage. The flickering firelight accentuates the flaws of plate and … Continue reading

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Vignettes

I serendipity one boy and three girls frozen in a photograph that leaves uncaptured the warmth of something never confessed II their hushed promises echoed within this chamber till the dawn of day heralded the postman with new letters from … Continue reading

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Toy Soldiers

A boy took a rifle and shot it because someone told him that this would make him a man; he was still a boy afterwards. Another boy took another rifle and shot it because he had seen the first boy … Continue reading

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It Popped

It was a fine afternoon for murder. The bell rang for dismissal and children poured out of classrooms into corridors, spilt into courtyards, escaped into streets. Within minutes, the campus was almost deserted, as even the adults began to make … Continue reading

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