mono no ah-wah-reh

Agnes Hanying Ong


Years back
my family visited Hokkaido
brought back boxes of chocolates. Since days ago
news brought from Hokkaido are surrealist snaps:
tall amemasu chained to, mad and brokeback
from mountain life. Island melting in flat sun.

Grid pieces are ant crumbs Earth
just felt like shaking off. Earth tempts,
Its mind cells diamond-shimmering, singing
a good day. Across Sea of Okhotsk

trails lavender promise, trust
but forever. Iceberg floats when
ninety percent of the ark
is simmering subconscious &
unconscious tsunami. Earth doesn’t tell
how It feels, It just feels like
binge-eating Its flesh in flashes:
floam-nom nom of numbers-numbing
but Earth just takes no more
of a religion of resilience away.


Agnes Hanying Ong is a research assistant, a poet, an illustrator and a writer. She longs to see and tell truths through theology, art and poetry. Her poetry is forthcoming or published in Rogue Agent JournalFailed Haiku and other places.



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