Lucid Azue New York Sky - Painting (not yet complete) by Asheka Troberg


                   -by Pui Ying Wong

This afternoon unable to write
I watch numbing white lights
in the yard cut in
by a descending cardinal
flapping its scarlet wings
like a wind-up toy.
The intensity of the bird’s color
jolts me and suddenly I remember
the story by Tennessee Williams
I read long ago. The heroine
in Oriflamme woke up one morning,
found the air cleansed after
a long sullen season.
I hurt as Anna examined her naked body,
shrunk in the days of dull.
Her skin bore the color of chalk.
Blue veins flowered.
I cheered as Anna fought the store clerks
(busily dispensing the don’ts)
for the red silk dress, ablaze
in the front window—her battle flag
to the anarchy of drab.
Is it true that a grain of renewal
is buried in every moment? Here I am
in a day sprayed and scrubbed.
Anything can happen now.
Wars ended or declared,
an expedition begun.
Bird, can you stand sentry for a while.
Show me how to untwist the flame.

Pui Ying Wong was born in Hong Kong. She is the author of a full length book of
poetry Yellow Plum Season (New York Quarterly Books, 2010), two chapbooks:
Mementos (Finishing Line Press, 2007), Sonnet for a New Country (Pudding House Press, 2008) and her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Blood Lotus Journal, The Brooklyner, decomP, Gargoyle, New York Quarterly, Prairie
Schooner, Ucity Review, and Valparaiso Poetry Review among others. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband, the poet Tim Suermondt.



                                                                -by Amol Redij

I asked her to walk a little slowly
For I wasn’t ready yet
Gathering things to remember
Deleting ones I had to forget

To places unknown
I sailed with her blithely
Without any suspicion
I followed her dearly

Tired now, I asked a halt
‘Not in this crowd,’
She said, ‘rest there,
There, on that cloud’

Loll now, forever you can
Smilingly, she said
Arranging me neatly
On that soft cloudy bed

I was falling in love with her
Slowly taking away my breath
All this while, I never knew
Happily I was, walking with death

Gently she closed my eyes
To end that longest stare
Even death died once, perhaps
Conceding finally, to my love and care