The more I try to remember
the more it escapes me
It was probably a gray house
small like a cabin
Didn’t have any windows
Maybe a small window
since I remember looking out often
an affliction suffered by my kind
Take away the window
and the world goes blind
I found myself in odd places
unable to put together
a beginning middle and end
My heart tossed like wild weeds
just beneath the calm water
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 4.
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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