Sunrise on the Atlantic.
Birds untangle from trees,
houses coming into view, rail tracks,
sand and gravel, the blue depot.
The coyote is back
without his mate.
Last snow days you watched them
roaming the construction site, one
never far from the other.
(What happens happened
out-of-sight).
By the look
of the leaves-choked yard
you sense a squall, like death,
swept through the night
and left.
And the strange woman
on main street,
cooing to her shopping cart
as if it was actually
a bassinet
is not so strange after all.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 5.
Pui Ying Wong is the author of two full-length books of poetry: An Emigrant’s Winter (Glass Lyre Press, 2016) and Yellow Plum Season (New York Quarterly Books, 2010)—along with two chapbooks. A new book, The Feast, is forthcoming from MadHat Press. She has received a Pushcart Prize. Her poems have appeared in Ploughshares, Prairie Schooner, Plume Poetry, Chicago Quarterly Review, New Letters, Zone 3 and The New York Times, among many others. Born and raised in Hong Kong, she lives in Cambridge Massachusetts with her husband, the poet Tim Suermondt.
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