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Emma Cheung Sep 18
I lost the faith
I never had
And became the laugh
That echoes itself
Crashing off damp cave
Walls
Interrupted by drops
Of condensation.

I found the faith
I never had
And saw the hills move
With steady rhythm
Grass green as a child's
Questions
Cow parsley swaying
With the cold wind.

The sky was still
And the ocean flowed.
The eggs round
And fragile
Sat in their nests.
Everything remained in
Its place, but everything
Was different.

I became the laugh
That laughs with others
I drink whole milk
And gaze into the sun
Blinded by purity
Deafened by possibility
In the arrested daylight of
the present.
Emma Cheung Apr 2018
Bleak when I'm gone            from your embrace
Grey is the sense                   without your taste
Mistiness                                instead of blood
And when it bleeds              it's like the sun

Those aimless roads             they end with you
A moment's touch                to fill me through
Drowsy eyes                          and still I gaze
Reach to your chest              perhaps too late
Emma Cheung Dec 2017
I stood at a crossroads
And the horizon came towards me.
50 000 kilowatts of pure ecstasy
Raced through my tendons.
I had sunbeams for eyes
And **** for brains,
A crushing tempest of
Beauty and chaos,
Telling me that mortality was
Violent and explosive.
Emma Cheung Nov 2017
Let me paint my kitchen in bright colours,
Let the morning light bounce off oranges and yellows.
Let me paint each bathroom tile with abandon,
And let each windowsill hold life.
I will build homes for my literature and
The walls will collect memories.

Leave the door open and the floor clean,
Leave the garden wild and the drawers crowded.
Let the wood have character and the rugs have texture.
Take care and let be.
  Nov 2017 Emma Cheung
usus
Give me flood
or rain
or river
or even stream
as in my once sumptuous garden
I can't find any green.
  Nov 2017 Emma Cheung
Dorothy Parker
Men seldom make passes
At girls who wear glasses.
Emma Cheung Nov 2017
Ten times nightly it crawls beneath,
Five times sprightly it ruptures my peace.
Pale is its breath
When I open my legs
Waiting for it to go back inside.
Sometimes, when it sleeps, I begin to feel
Something close to love.
And slowly it moves, its endless wrath,
Extinguishing all warmth,
Coming back to its fat prey.

It opens its gall black shining eyes.

How dreadful,
The cold silence of waiting
For uncondensed hatred.

— The End —