Amanda Chong (b. 1989)

SELECTED POEMS

Museum of Aborted Romance

Here is a place we may abandon
artefacts from Loves that never
finished gestation. Their cords cut
before they grew full-bodied enough
to wrestle with our half-made minds.

Here is a collection of not-quite tragedies.
A fridge of hearts with stumps for wings
frozen in a state of readying. Beyond
the danger sign, a closet of chimeras
spliced from best parts of old lovers.

In the basement, file away projections of
tenderness in his gaze, frisson from her
accidental graze of flesh. A seismograph charts
early tremors with tiny arcs. Nothing erupts.
Teetering tapes of late-night conversations

unspool from too many rewinds. Cabinets sigh
with sheaves of overanalyses. Through the haze,
a shrine of cards and gifts selected for ambiguous
intent. On calendars, circled in lipstick red,
dates forever inchoate. Overhead, a map lights up

all the stars we must have crossed. In a box, 
locked, tools of romance's abortion: reason's
trump card, insidious tripwires into friendship,
catatonia from a broken heart, cold showers
the morning after, vulnerability's proud ramparts.

By the exit, you will find
a bin of battered mobile phones
aglow with his final text,
her hanging line...
Leave yours behind.

by Amanda Chong
from Professions (2016)

 

SELECTED POEMS: “Post-Apocalyptic Love” >