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ON THE BABY AND THE TWO

Damp rain. The sun was setting. 

On grass – two people under a simulation of the sky,

The sun. Moon! Cosmos, with the scene the most beautiful of them all.

It was all set. One person would leave at the first stroke of thunder, 

The other, to stay and ‘protect’ the infant.

The infant! Wasn’t that always forgotten in the rain?


Everyone knew that the infant would die if one left.

Then, everything flashed. The sky’s cries for one to leave did not come unanswered.

And so, one was stuck with the infant, under the only palm tree in a thousand miles.

The other set sail. There was nothing magical.

Calls in the dark. All went unanswered or were answered by light.

The rain ended two days later. The infant was dead.


One must ask what went wrong

But to ask is to curse, and to not ask is to fall.

One must then not ask what went right.


Two days ago, shining. Of course, the baby, cared for dearly.

The calls of the jungle were returned, with not silence but sharp, euphoric exhalations.

It was the forest, with wildlife blurred between the dark and pale greens.

Trees of oak and dark mahogany. Senses of cultivation and emotion blasted through the canopies.

The sky was calmer. While there were wails before, yellow and blue shone right through.

Almost everyone was certain of immortality.


Neither of them would let go. It was too precious!

And, of course, the baby remained the important figurehead, the symbol.

They shared responsibility. It was all set.

Cosmos. The moon and sun balanced between a series of constellations.

And on healthy grass – two people under ‘reality’. 

Dry sun. The sun was setting.



[Poem by Matthew Chiu]


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