POEMS

by Arlene Ang

TURNING THE ASHES

dark shadows once more
and an inscrutable moon
to disguise the yellow light
flickering from 
a curtained room
where cold melancholy
rises from a fireplace 
burning piles of
decrepit wood

and it was said
that it would die
with the bloodstains
on the logs
this yellow ring of pain
emanating from a smile
long extinguished in the cold
the corrupted remains 
of what should 
have long died out
with the rest of 
the ash-filled smog


DAYLIGHT

we seek the sky for rest
our eyes always praying 
for a drop of rain
as we walk
naked in the streets
our sweltered backs 
lashed numb by the sun

we hold our toasts
scorched black
in our haste
toasts thawed 
in bitter coffee 
to see us 
through the day


GREATER VICE

        My thoughts were never mine
Beyond this bottle that I hold so vile;
        My thoughts were never mine -
Though I do quiet them with shots of wine.
O could but I forget just for a while
This dream - as yet undreamt - that is your smile!
        Alas, my thought ARE never mine.