Poetry: Leukaemia and Loved Ones

mama’s eyes are milky chocolate

ringed in the grey of Snowy’s fur;

a white-turned-dirty grimy smudge

the well-worn marks of the loved.

mama’s eyes are pain-free, sting-free.

(i want to squeeze Snowy against my chest, but she’s at home on my bed mama says, “At rest”)

i reach out a pointed finger,

trace the hollows brimming

with salty pearls I try to catch-

they are splashing silver fish

that slip silently down my wrist.

(they tickle a little and thread past my arm, a second set of shiny tubes)

i want to tell my mama

to shut those eyes,

catch those shines;

before they pelt my

heart and hurt.

(a hurt deep in my belly, it pulses like another heart, grips my bones wrenches me apart)

but i can’t-

i’m too tired-

from holding

back my own

salty tears.

(my bones are screaming my stomach flipping)

i’m sorry

(i would hold my pain a hundred times over, if it would make my heart stronger)

i don’t-

i didn’t-

want to leave either

(somethin’s pressin’ down on me)

Chloe Wong, 3P

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