More poems and contributor notes in Chinese feature
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Photo by David Liew
Felix Cheong Seng Fei
What Moves, Is Dark (i.m. Bob Kane, creator of Batman)
The night is young
behind the mask.
Its heart is used
and blind to the dark.
Wings at full reach,
it will swallow streets,
swooping on those
whose conscience can’t sleep.
A Detective Sonnet
Words find no purchase in these streets.
I could wake the silence with a gun
and all the confession worth a buy
is a shrug, a blink of sun.
If only you could see man as I
see him, every tunnel of day
blundering in the blind, a cul-de-sac
through which evil empties its ways,
you would understand why all I want is a woman
whose heart hits me true and right,
and that will be enough — to be here, a stiff
drink warming in her light
and her tears christening my past
when my case is closed at last.
Notes for a Suicide
I have a thread
round each wrist
which I know I can unstitch
anytime I wish.
Hands freed, thumbs crossed,
fingers restless as wings,
I have become that crow
roosting in my dreams.
