ditch,

the poetry that matters

Tammy Ho Lai-ming

Tammy Ho Lai-ming, aka Sighming, is a Hong Kong-born and -based writer. She edited Hong Kong U Writing: An Anthology (2006) and co-edited Love & Lust (Inkstone Books, 2008). She also co-founds and co-edits Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, the first and currently the only Hong Kong online literary quarterly journal dedicated to publishing creative works from and about Asia. Ho has creative works forthcoming in MiPoseias, Prick of the Spindle and 34th Parallel. More at sighming.com.

A LOVELORN GIRL'S FOUR SEASONS

The flowing of mating seeds. Spring stirs.
Awake are animals. Crawl sneeze whirl.
Whole sky expects hairy tastes
of sprouting love. Breathe the wind.
What wind?

Summer. Sweat has a new definition:
an insistent layer of second-hand skin,
reminded her of a bygone ex-lover.

Gentle autumn, all leaves sallow. Frowns
found on old maidens' faces, un-digitalised.
Each a crumpled petal in the desolate
rains. The future looks glum? Wait.

Beware of fake snowflakes like white
spider-webs. Predators whistle an elegy
in improvised jazz.

 
:::::


I
 

I am bacterium
Don't have chlorophyll
Want
To
Be lavender
Loving
You
Is
Wrong

I am greyhound
Don't have horns
Want
To
Be deer
Right tyranny
If fear
Loving
You
Is
Wrong

I am milk
Don't have sugar
Want
To
Be spirits
Right bandit
If decompose
Loving
You
Is
Wrong

I wonder
Don't you understand, I
Want hell
To
Be
Right
If
Loving
You
Is
Wrong

I surrender
I fear
I decompose

 
:::::


AND MY FAIR PAST HERE SHOWED ME

[i]
You've got the ticket, life is just a slow train.
                                                        Which
compartment are
you in?
                                            No you are not allowed
                                            to upgrade your seat

[ii]
            sigh, sigh, sigh
                                                                      
These
sighs -- stillborn

[iii]

                                                                             
Yes, the tongue too,
                                                     has been
blasphemed.

[iv]
She slept, she slept some more, she slept yet some more.

[v]
                                                             Thirteen
unfinished
poems, abandoned
                                        Cannot spit memories, cannot
haunt me.

[vi]

                                                            Philip,
where are
you?
                                                   Can you be my
boyfriend?
                                                     For you are
half-divine.
                                                          You have PHI
in your
name.

                                                                              

           Be mine.

[vii]

                     If I have a bathtub roomy enough for not just me
                         but also three goldfish, I will lay inside
until
                         my bottom complains about the wrinkles and the
fish
                         die of  boredom.

[viii]
A: My love to you is so big.

B: Balloon can be big,
but it bears no substance,
no weight.

[ix]
My father painted all doors purple.

:::::

 

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