Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Poetry 2018 | Page 23

A Letter to the West
Clearwater Bay School, Li, Adele - 10
PART ONE
A man spits.
I shield away from the sun,
Squinting.
I hack at the mound of wood
That lies in front of me.
I am in full control of the axe
But something still cuts into my head.
It drills its way in,
until all I hear is
Silence.
And it’s a loud silence too
Almost too loud to bear.
I want to speak
But I can’t.
So all I am blessed with
Is silence.
I’ve never heard silence
Quite this loud.
Spitting man
Looks at me
Like a hawk.
Hey,
Dreamer boy,
He says.
It’s not time to daddle.
Get to it!
He turns his back
But still mutters to himself.
Lovers.
He says the word like it’s poison,
Like it’s a plague.
I can’t help but agree.
True love is the most inconvenient type.
I feel
The sudden urge to run.
Away
From reality,
Away
From myself,
Away
From love.
So I run.
Spitting man
Shouts at me
But his words
Are pinpricks
And I
Am an armour.
As soon as I smell
The molten wood
Of my door,
One in a chapter of doors,
I feel safe.
I rush in
And the musty smell soothes me.