fragments

 

Dried Leaf

Dried leaf curled up on the pavement,

what grace turned you snail-like ?

For a bird that swoops to find a delectable bite,

it finds you and turns away,

so the snail that actually crawls up next

is passed by without so much as a passing glance.

Even in death, you protect.

 

Cats

In my home since they were 2 weeks old,

this is all their world they know.

They strut with the arrogance of those who know their place in this world,

a world that serves them, revolves around them

with slaves to bathe and feed them, and even cuddle them,

never having met another in their lives

do my cats know they are cats?

 

 

Familiar Paths

Today I walked a path I used to take all the time 3 years ago.

It was soothing to see how quickly I fell into the rhythm of that route,

recalling specific people I would see along the way always,

who were not there now, of course.

 

The toothless lady selling tissue paper packets at Bishan MRT -

she had an extra special smile for me,

and a few words in Cantonese that I could not understand, yet understood.

I wonder where she is now, if she is well, alive even.

 

An older gentleman

pushing a trolley full of old papers and other knickknacks up the hill as I walked down

from Orchard MRT station along Paterson Road.

Where was he going with his wares, I used to wonder.

He was not there today

I wonder how he is, where he is.

I hope he is well.

 

There used to be a tree at the bus stop opposite the MRT station,

a towering leafy gift.

It was cut down one day,

with a square of rope around the stump

that became a square of rope around a mound of earth

clearly imprinted with roots of the tree,

like an unmarked grave, or a police chalk outline of a murder.

A tidy pavement smooths the way to the bus stop now,

where once I would run for the bus tripping over roots,

and this pavement now is filled with bushes and flowers,

so pretty, so neat, so contained.

with no trace left of the giant that once existed,

except for this poem.