Missing Her (Fanling Babies Home)
By Antony Huen
You’d rather not see me,
since your last departure,
encapsulated in sepia,
constituted by knit,
paisley, and the smell
of your tea.
I mouthed mom,
your lips stiff and pursed.
You turned around,
stumbling up the stairs
to the secret chamber
in my rented flat.
*
The stamp you left me,
the tiara,
its silver rusts
like my tongue.
I wonder which colour
of the rainbow
she is wearing
to the funeral.
Antony Huen is a PhD student at the University of York, where he researches contemporary poetry in relation to visual arts. His recent poems have been published in Cha: An Asian Literary Journal, and he is one of Eyewear Publishing's The Best New British and Irish Poets 2017.
