Poetry by Israela Wong
Aurora Borealis Autumn/Winter 2017
i.
the wolves watch with
glittering eyes
as they await
their midnight feast.
ii.
sometimes i wonder
if i am really human
beneath this bonepelt
sewn onto my shoulders.
iii.
i am only an observer,
taking notes before bedtime.
no one notices the black hole
forming in the back room.
iv.
the train arrives with its cargo
of children, all hollow-cheeked &
wrapped in faux fur. they
receive new names &
a number. form a line,
they are told.
“Dear Data is a year-long, analog data drawing project by Giorgia Lupi and Stefanie Posavec, two award-winning information designers living on different sides of the Atlantic.
Each week, and for a year, we collected and measured a particular type of data about our lives, used this data to make a drawing on a postcard-sized sheet of paper, and then dropped the postcard in an English “postbox” (Stefanie) or an American “mailbox” (Giorgia)!” —Dear Data
This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my entire life.
DOLLHOUSE
This poem is the dismembered limb of a house
left in ashes. The staircase hides a cello,
a chipped teacup and postcards of the beach—to be
read during the quiet of a snowstorm. The twenty year
old stacks of newspapers by the fireplace
contain a hidden message.
Below the floorboards
a broken clock chimes twelve. Listen closely and
you will hear the lingering longings
of a lonely / little girl.
Tender
Darling, don’t be afraid of your tears,
they are like ice on a bruise,
warm tea on a winter night
the brush of a pet’s fur-kiss,
your mother’s petal-touch
as she tucks you into bed.
What if we
killed a rabbit.
What if we
pretended that
it didn’t suffer?
What if only
the rabbit
remembers?
Snare
Some
people are like spiders, weaving webs
with words. Some draw them
from their throats
like a snake that curls
around their tongue, dripping
venom.
Others
spin cotton candy, taffy,
poisoned apples drenched
in caramelised sugar.
inhaling the unspeakable
holding our breath / making a space
for the children to cry