Lydia Kwa

A SMELL OF OCEAN


You thought the view was gorgeous
The mountains unquestionably solid
You believed what you smelled was pure ocean
Then again—where’s the purity?

How do you parse all the constituents of
Mimicry and masking?
Smell being ancient
Compelling and assumed true

You forgot thinking and sensations are
Not perfect machinery that could analyze
A sample of fluid to determine
Parts per million of unseen contaminants

Creature to creature, you believed skin and warmth
Moist glancing kisses led you to dive into a heady joy
Tender moments released an inner ocean
Of intoxication




REJECTION
(For Cathy Stonehouse)


We believed for years that it implied a defect in us
All the words we spun to show what we hadn’t speech for
Words out of air, the breath we inhaled
Cries of shame or rage

While others turn away, we scream even more loudly
About the monsters in our bellies
Look—we say—don’t you see?

We haven’t stopped writing horror since
Fright hasn’t abandoned the world
After all, the apocalypse
Still singes the tips of our tongues

Now we know—if they refuse what we name­—
The pain of their rejection resides there not here

Freeing us from a shame that was never ours

Lydia Kwa has published two books of poetry, The Colours of Heroines (Toronto: Women’s Press, 1994) and sinuous (Winnipeg: Turnstone Press, 2013). Kwa’s first novel This Place Called Absence (Winnipeg: Turnstone, 2000) was nominated for several awards. Her next novel The Walking Boy was nominated for the Ethel Wilson prize. Pulse was re-issued in 2014 (Singapore: Ethos Books). Her fourth novel Oracle Bone was published by Arsenal Pulp Press in 2017. A new version of The Walking Boy has just been released in Spring 2019 (Arsenal Pulp) as the second novel in the chuanqi 傳奇 trilogy.

Photo credit: Ronnie Hill Photography.